


Summers End

by luway



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Cliche, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, References to Depression, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luway/pseuds/luway
Summary: Minho's parents sending him away isn't a new occurrence, sending him across the country to stay with an aunt he's never met for the whole summer though, that's a new one.Not to mention the cute local boy who seems intent on figuring Minho out. Whatever that's supposed to mean.





	1. the graveyard shift

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I'm hella excited for this au like really really excited
> 
> My only warning is that this will be a fun fic but won't always be a ray of sunshine, and it will be kind of cliche not gonna lie. Not disgustingly so, just in the whole rich city boy meets small town boy way but I promise it's worth it!
> 
> unbeta'd as usual, enjoy!

   Minho wakes up to a gentle tap to his shoulder, the rumble of the train filling his ears as he falls out of a dreamless sleep. He pulls his earbuds out of his ear when he sees one of the attendants standing beside him with an expectant look on her face.

 

   There's only one or two other people in the train car, and they all boarded after Minho had already claimed his own row of seats almost three hours ago when he first boarded.

 

   “We’re coming up on your stop soon, Sir. I was instructed to make sure you were awake and had all your things with you before we arrive.”

 

   Minho figured his parents would have hired some help along the way. They always did like to act like he was a child,  and apparently he couldn't even make sure he had his own luggage with him. Obviously he knows it isn't the attendants fault, but it still strikes a chord of annoyance within Minho as he begins to wake up more. 

   

   “Oh, thank you. I have all my things.”

 

   Minho rubs the sleep out of his eyes, fumbling for his phone in the pocket of his windbreaker to pause the song playing. 

 

   The soft instrumental and the rhythmic rocking of the train is only enticing him to fall back asleep, and he can't afford to do that when the train will be reaching his stop in less than a twenty minutes. No matter how much he would like to. 

 

   Minho will just have to finish his nap when he arrives at his aunt's. 

 

 

 

 

   The island he’s en route to is small. In fact, it's so small that he couldn’t even find it on the map. Its name was almost nonexistent. It's almost like the rest of the world is completely unaware of its existence.

 

   And Minho is about to spend his entire summer there.

 

 

_Ping!_

 

 

   Minho glances down at his phone and sees it vibrating on the table in front of him, a picture of Hyunjin posing like an idiot on the screen. Minho presses the _Accept Call_ button on the third buzz.

 

   The video call picks up, but just barely. Hyunjin’s face is just managing to hit 480p with the way it keeps skipping from the bad reception in the train, and his voice is comically tinny. He almost sounds like a robot.

 

   “Don’t tell me you’re calling from the bus again.”

 

   Minho rolls his eyes, but can’t help but smile when Hyunjin brings the phone right up to his face so Minho get’s a lovely pixelated image of Hyunjin’s nostrils and the mole under his eye on his screen.

 

   “ _Of course I am,_ _I_ _had_ _to_ _make_ _sure_ _this_ _was_ _as_ _painful_ _as_ _possible_ _for_ _you_ , _duh_.” Hyunjin scoffs, but smiles right back at Minho. “ _How was your trip? I tried to call you earlier but it didn't go through. I figured you were asleep or something_.”

 

   “Oh like a fucking baby.” Minho stretches his arms out across the table and rests his chin on the edge, watching the video feed skip and show a play-by-play of Hyunjin walking off the bus.

 

   The reception gets slightly better after that, Minho might even say they’ve reached 720p now.

 

   They talk about nothing at all for a while, Minho listening to a watered down version of Hyunjin’s day at school. He’s grateful that Hyunjin doesn’t mention the fact that Minho is pretty much on his way to his own execution right now, he'd rather pretend it wasn't happening and just spend the precious time he had left with reception and talk to Hyunjin. Who knows if his surgery will have WiFi in her island shack. 

 

   Minho had referred to the trip as his own execution when talking to Hyunjin a few weeks ago, and his friend nearly tripped over himself laughing.

 

   Minho's whined and told Hyunjin he was being mean, not that Hyunjin cared.  

 

_“You’re so over dramatic.”_

 

   Minho hung up after that, being the petty person he is, but didn’t hesitate to pick up again when Hyunjin called just a few seconds later to continue their conversation.

 

   He's petty, not spiteful. 

 

 

 

   Minho knows that _realistically_ it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be. Hyunjin did some research and found out that a train ride from his town to where Minho will be staying is less than an hour, and seeing as Hyunjin just got a summer job he’ll be able to come down every so often to make sure Minho isn’t completely cut off from the outside world.

 

   The thought of talking to Hyunjin without the use of a shitty cell phone or laptop is tempting to Minho, but Hyunjin refuses to let him help and pay for the train tickets. Therefore limiting the amount of times he’ll be able to come over.

 

   Hyunjin’s family isn’t poor in any way, but they both know that a minimum wage job won’t be buying Hyunjin a round trip ticket every single week—not when Hyunjin refuses to allow his parents or Minho to help with the cost, even when they insist. 

 

   Yet Hyunjin's pride prevails. 

 

   “ _You have all your_ stuff _right_?” Hyunjin asks, and Minho tries not to sigh at the worried look Hyunjin is sending him through the screen.

 

   The boy’s features aren’t any less pretty when he furrows his eyebrows together like that, but it makes Minho feel guilty to know that Hyunjin is so worried about him all the time. 

 

   “Yeah, my mom bought me an extra just in case... They're in my bag.”

 

   “ _Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up_.” Hyunjin rushes to apologize, “ _I_ _just_ — _I_ _just_ _wanna_ _make_ _sure_ _you’re_ _taking_ _care_ _of_ _yourself_.”

 

   “I know..." Minho lets out a sigh when the bell chimes through the train car, and a woman’s voice begins to announce their imminent arrival. "My stop is coming up, I’ll call you later tonight... and I promise I’m gonna be okay Jinnie.”

 

   “ _Okay_ , _I’m probably going to be too busy to call_   _but I'll try and text you later_. _Have a good time_.” Hyunjin waves, and Minho pretends to cringe when he watches Hyunjin blow him a small hand kiss right before the call cuts off.

 

   “Yeah. A good time...”

 

   Minho grimaces as he pockets his phone, slidinng out of the booth and shimmying his suitcase out of the overhead compartment with some effort. He hopes it’ll be enough to get him through the summer.

 

   Just to be sure, Minho unzips the big pouch on the front of his suitcase so he can fit his hand in and makes sure the two bottles he packed that morning hadn't been lost in transit. His hand wraps around the two cylinders, which are still held together by the rubber band he had stolen out of his father’s office right before he left to keep the them from disappearing into the depths of his bag.

 

   Minho almost wishes he had left them in the medicine cabinet. He knows mother would have found them though, and it would have started a whole new argument. 

 

 

 

 

   The train begins to slow a few minutes after he ends the call, and Minho watches the pale grey sky pass by as the train slows, and is finally still.

 

   There’s a faint rumble in the distance, and Minho hopes that it’s from the train, and he hasn’t just arrived in the beginning of a typhoon—as Hyunjin teased him that they were common this time of year.

 

   It was just a joke, but Minho couldn’t help but be anxious at the thought. He wasn’t used to such weather, the worst they got in Seoul was a bit of rain, a thunderstorm on occasion.

 

   Minho steps off the train car with the rest of the passengers who have the same stop, and is immediately grateful for the warning to wear something warmer when a chill breeze runs through the open air.

 

   He’s dressed warmer than one would think necessary, seeing as it’s just reached July and the weather _should_ reflect that. His aunt contacted his parents the day before though, and let them know that a small storm had just passed through, and he would be better off if he were prepared for some colder weather for the first few days. It’s not raining anymore, but he can see that it had only recently stopped by the puddles outside.

 

 

   The train station is far smaller than the one Minho had gone to when first boarding the train, and much less crowded, but there’s a good amount of people milling around as they wait for taxis, or the next train to pull up. Minho picks his way through the loose crowds until he’s standing next to a pillar, and no longer in danger of being jostled by a passerby.

 

   Minho pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls back through to the texts from his father until he sees the last one he read before he fell asleep.

 

 

 

   DAD 13:56

She’ll be there to pick you up. Don’t worry.

 

 

 

   His Aunt Yoo is supposed to be the oddball of the family, from what Minho has been told. She gave up most of her inheritance and moved far away from the rest of the family in the mid 2000's, and for some god forsaken reason chose an island, in the middle of nowhere as her new home. She’s supposed to be a little strange, but apparently not strange enough for his parents to think twice about sending him out to live with her for a summer. He vaguely remembers his mother mentioning that his Aunt writes and edits books for a living. Whether that’s true, and if anything she’s written has been published, Minho has no clue.

 

   That’s the story of his life right now though, isn’t it.

 

   He has enough money for a taxi or a train ride halfway home if Aunt Yoo doesn’t show up, but where he’d go and how he’d figure that out is a complete mystery to him. He’s preparing himself for a long wait if his his aunt ends up being anything like his parents when it comes to remembering to pick him up.

 

   Minho expects at least a twenty minute wait ahead of him, and begins to search for a bench to set up a camp when he hears someone calling for him.

 

_“Minho!”_

 

   There's a woman calling to him from about twenty feet away. His Aunt Yoo, or at least he assumes. 

 

   His aunt is younger than he expected. With dark, practically ebony colored hair pulled up into a rushed bun, small wisps of hair too short for the hair tie to hold resting on her neck. She’s almost a carbon copy of his own mother at first glance—which is how he knows it's her, but upon inspection when she grows closer he can see the major differences between the two. Faint wrinkles at the corner of her eyes that his mother would have never allowed, and a few freckles dotted across her face—probably from all the sun.

 

   A small jolt of surprise runs through Minho when he notices that Aunt Yoo seems to have a slight overlap when it comes to her front teeth, making one of them slightly crooked, just like his own.

 

   That tooth in particular is one of the reasons Minho has always been shy to smile around people, but here his Aunt is, showing it off to him within moments of properly meeting him.

 

   Aunt Yoo doesn’t think twice about throwing her arms out and wrapping them around Minho, a strangely familiar smell surrounding him when she does so.

 

   The hug is physical affection that Minho isn't used to, but he awkwardly pats her back in an attempt to reciprocate in some way.

 

   A part of his mind is urging him to hug her properly, but the other part—the bigger part—tells him that he would be sure to make it awkward if he tried.

 

   Aunt Yoo seems to realize that he’s a bit uncomfortable and relents her hold, holding him out at arms length and smiling at him as people walk around them. She’s about the same height as Minho—with maybe a centimeter or two on him—and the corners of her eyes crinkle up when her lips curl upwards into a gentle smile.

 

   “It’s so nice to see you, I’m sorry I’m a bit late.” Aunt Yoo says, and Minho’s eyes flicker over her wrinkles out of curiosity, wondering if his mother would have the same lines on her face if she smiled more often.

 

   He thinks he likes them.

 

   “Don’t uh, don’t worry, you’re fine” Minho manages, suddenly feeling shy in front of a new person.

 

   How is he supposed to make a good impression to someone he’s never met before?

 

   “You can call me Auntie if you’d like, or Yoo, or even Jiyeon if it makes you more comfortable.” His aunt seems excited to have him as she ushers him out of the train station. She links arms with him, and Minho is still trying to wrap his head around so much casual contact, but he finds it nice to just be able to follow and not have to worry about losing her in the crowds as she leads him to her car.

 

   Speaking of, Aunt Yoo’s car is an old boxy Fiat that’s can’t be younger than twenty years. It sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the newer models that surround it, but Aunt Yoo doesn’t seem to be perturbed by that, helping Minho maneuver his suitcase into the trunk—that’s only just big enough to hold it.

 

   There’s a faint scent of something burning when the car starts, but Aunt Yoo doesn’t seem worried about it, so Minho doesn’t say anything as the car lurches back out of the parking spot.

 

   “Sorry for not being there right when you arrived, the ride over here took a bit longer than expected.” Aunt Yoo explains, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “Afternoon traffic should have cleared up by now though.”

 

   Minho knows that Aunt Yoo is the black sheep of the family, and he's starting to see why people might think that. Especially when comparing her personality to every other cousin and aunt and uncle and grandparent he had ever met in passing at those annoying family reunions his parents insisted they had to attend.

 

   He decides that even if his aunt does share some physical similarities with his mother, she's completely different in every other way. She speaks animatedly, though most of it is just passing conversation that doesn't mean much to either her or Minho. Her face is devoid of makeup, though her eyelashes are long and dark on their own—another similarity between her and Minho.

 

   The ride can’t be more than an hour including the ferry they take to get to the actual island, and Minho is just starting to get hungry when the boat reaches it. The island could be seen from the docks, but it looked far away. Minho hoped it would be too far though, because the ferry has a strange smell to it, not unlikenrotten fish and a ton of heat baked seaweed. 

 

   The sky becomes more and more clear the further away from the mainland they get, until all Minho can see is an endless expanse of blue all around him.

 

   Minho is surprised to see that the island isn’t that far away at all, it’s just _that_ small. It’s mostly in rocky shores, and a small expanse of sandy beach around what could barely be called a mountain. Minho thinks he remembers his mother saying the island’s population was barely two hundred people. He just didn’t think she was being serious until now.

 

   The town itself is only a handful of colorful buildings and a dingy lighthouse perched further up the shelf of rock that makes up the left side of the island. It's nothing compared to the skyscrapers Minho is used to. 

 

   Minho can see a few people milling about outside of some of the shops, and he even catches sight of two boys who seemto be around his age with what looks like a pair of surfboards tucked under their arms as they run away from the town and down towards the beach. He isn’t sure whether the prospect of having people his age around here is comforting or daunting.

 

   Hopefully Aunt Yoo isn’t the type to force him to make friends.

 

   “We’re here!”

 

   Minho is pulled out of his thoughts when Aunt Yoo calls out, and he looks out the front window to see that they are at Aunt Yoo’s house. Or at least he thinks it is.

 

   It’s a little darker than sky blue on the outside, though Minho has to squint to see it through the trees that keep it in the shade. The house is on the edge of the far end of the island, the shore only a few leaps away from back door the house—not that it matters, seeing as the waves hit the rocky shore with a worrying amount of force.

 

   “You’re room is mostly set up, I wasn’t able to get a bed frame in time though.” Aunt Yoo says when she pulls the car up into the long driveway.

 

   Minho wonders how long the car had been sitting in the exact same spot before his aunt used it to pick him up when he sees the patch of completely dry pavement right where she decided to park.

 

   “Mrs. Kim from down the street is a friend of mine, she has two sons. She said she might have one we could have from when her son Wonpil was your age.”

 

   Minho follows Aunt Yoo with his suitcase trailing behind him, trying to keep up as he looks around the outside of the house, decorated with all sorts of plants and colorful decor.

 

   “Her youngest is around your age, Seungmin I think his name is. Some of the boys your age come around more than others, he’s one of the more shy ones.”

 

   The house is very small on the inside, with the living room, kitchen and dining room taking up the main part of the house all in one room. Minho’s apartment back in the city does the same, it’s just way bigger, and Minho has to stop himself from making a huge brat of himself when he almost asks ‘where’s the rest of it’ like an idiot.

 

   Aunt Yoo shows him the bathroom first, a small room with a single stall shower and not much else besides the essentials. It’s through the kitchen, and Minho nearly decapitates himself on a hanging pot when he walks through, while his Aunt avoids it with practiced ease.

 

   “My room is to the right, yours is to the left. It was sort of acting as a big closet up until a month ago, so it’s kind of bare.” Aunt Yoo explains as Minho peeks his head into his room for the next two months.

 

   True to Aunt Yoo’s word, the room isn’t much at all. There’s nothing to it but a mattress shoved into the corner of the room with fresh white sheets and blankets folded on top, a small dresser missing the top left drawer, and a blue striped love seat that has faded from too much sunlight.

 

   Minho steps into the middle of the room and looks around, trying to imagine himself living here.

 

   “I like it.”

 

   And he means it. 

 

   His aunt seems to release a breath she didn’t know she had been holding before she breaks into a bright smile.

 

   “I’m glad, now why don’t you take some time to unpack and I’ll finish up dinner.”

 

   Minho lets out a long held in breath when his aunt leaves the room, glad that she didn’t go in for another hug or something. It’s not that he didn’t appreciate the affection, it just was something he wasn’t quite used to yet.

 

   A long day of traveling has left him feeling icky in a way he couldn’t explain, like everything was too loud and every touch was too hot and the feeling didn’t leave his skin even long after it had physically gone. He wasn’t used to so much stimulation at once, and a long night of worrying about the summer ahead had left him with shadows under his eyes from a weak nights sleep.

 

   Minho sets his suitcase down on the couch and unzips it, throwing it open before going to his phone and finding the playlist he listened to when he felt this way.

 

 

 

 

   Unpacking helps him find some ease as he finds a rhythm, and Minho is peaked with curiosity when he finds an old sweater in the second drawer of his dresser.

 

   It’s neatly folded, and the wear of the fabric makes Minho think that it must have been worn a lot. The same off, yet strangely familiar smell that Minho had caught when Aunt Yoo hugged him clings to the dark fabric, and with some effort Minho can make out the words across the front—faded from too many careless washes it seemed.

 

SEOUL

1988

KOREA

 

   The colors of the Olympic rings are long gone but Minho can make them out, he makes a mental note to ask his aunt about it later, folding the sweatshirt and gently placing it away from the rest of his clothes. He doesn’t want the smell rubbing off and blending into the smell of his own clothes just yet.

 

   Minho nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a loud thump to his right, and a faint scrabbling against the window.

 

   “What the fuck!” Minho clutches his chest right over his heart and stares with wide eyes at the window in the middle of the wall. His shock slowly morphs into something like surprised curiosity when he looks over at the window and sees a thin orange and white cat on the ledge staring at him.

 

   “Huh—Hi there” Minho watches the cat scratch at the window again and meow soundlessly. “Who the heck are you buddy.”

 

   Minho goes to step close to the window, contemplating letting the cute kitty in, until his aunt yells for him and scares both him and the cat.

 

   “Minho!”

 

   Minho jumps when he hears Aunt Yoo call out to him, her voice carrying through the small space where the door hasn’t quite shut. He feels himself slip into a small pout when he looks out the window and sees no trace of orange fur in the sparse bushes under the window sill.

 

   “Coming!” Minho replies, reaching and nearly losing balance as he stretches to pause his music.

 

   He doesn’t even really need to leave his room to see his aunt he realizes, but Minho walks across the living room anyways, taking a look at the food Aunt Yoo has started to place out on the small table.

 

   “I forgot today is mail day, do you think you could run into town real quick and grab anything left for me?” Aunt Yoo asks breathlessly, and Minho is already starting to think of excuses to weasel his way out of having to leave the house when he sees the slight wrinkle between Aunt Yoo’s eyebrows.

 

   It’s something that reminds him of his mother, and Minho immediately doesn’t like seeing it on Aunt Yoo, it doesn’t fit her.

 

   “I uh, I guess so.”

 

   “Oh thank you so much, I promise this will be the only time, it just completely slipped my mind with the excitement of picking you up and I wanted dinner to be perfect—”

 

   “Don’t worry about it auntie, where do I pick up the mail?” Minho cuts her off, not wanting her to feel like she has to explain herself.

 

   “Right down at the edge of town there’s a corner store, the cashier Younghyun picks up the mail for this side of the island.” Aunt Yoo tells him as she chops up something long and green that Minho can’t remember the name of right now. “It’s a yellow building, first one you should see. If you get lost just ask anyone you see, they’ll show you.”

 

   The thought of having to ask someone for help makes Minho’s throat go dry for a seconds, and he feels his palms grow a bit sweaty, but he simply nods his way through the instructions as he zips his jacket up again.

 

   “Are you sure you’re okay Minho?” Aunt Yoo asks, looking worried as he moves towards the door. "I know your mom said—

 

   “ _I’ll_ _be_ _fine_ , don’t worry.” Minho tries not to roll his eyes, unsure if the feeling bubbling up in his chest is anxiety or annoyance. He thinks it’s more of the first one as he wipes his hands on his jeans to dry them though.

 

 _Yellow building. Yellow building_. Minho thinks in his head as he speed walks down the road, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

 

   The walk doesn’t take anything more than five minutes, but it’s enough for Minho to start second guessing himself when it comes to where he’s supposed to go.

 

   “Yellow building.” Minho mutters under his breath until it comes into sight, and he lets out a small sigh of relief.

 

   The building is a bright sunflower yellow, and instead of a neon open sign that Minho is accustomed to when it comes to shops, it has a small surfboard hung up with the word OPEN hand painted onto the wood—it looks like it’s due for a touch up soon.

 

   Then again, most of the island looks like it could use a touch up if he's being honest.

 

   “Welcome to—Hey I don’t know you.”

 

   Minho freezes in the doorway for a second when he hears someone address him.

 

   Standing a few feet away is a young man with a few cans in his arms, setting them up on the shelves, or at least he was before Minho walked in.

 

   “Fuck, sorry that was super rude of me. Shit! I’m not supposed to swear in front of customers. Uh, I’m sorry.” The young man seems to cringe at himself, and Minho can’t help but relate to the feeling.

 

   “Don’t worry about it.” Minho says, standing at the doorway awkwardly for a moment until he remembers why he’s here. “I’m uh, here to grab mail for my aunt?”

 

   “Your aunt—No fucking way, you’re Auntie’s nephew?” The young man gapes for a moment before setting the last can down. “I should have known, you guys look so similar. Damn.”

 

   Minho is taken aback for a second. “Auntie?”

 

   “Oh yeah, your aunt used to babysit me and my brother, that’s what we always called her. My name’s Younghyun, Kang Younghyun.” He introduces himself and Minho watches him disappear into the back of the shop. Taking the momentary lapse in social interaction to appreciate the small store.

 

   It could almost pass as any old convenience store, if it wasn’t for the fishing bait on the far left wall and all the boating and surfing gear on the far right. Minho doesn’t think he’s seen a single name brand item since he arrived besides what he owns.

 

   “Here’s Auntie’s mail for the week.” Younghyun reappears in less than a minute with a handful of neat envelopes. “Tell her I said hello, I’ve been away for college so I haven’t seen her in a while. Hey, you’re from Seoul too right?”

 

   “Yeah.” Minho prides himself on not stuttering. “You go to school there?”

 

   “I’m taking a year off to be with family and spend some time back home, but yeah.”

 

   “Cool… I uh, I should probably head back. Auntie Yoo was just finishing up with dinner.” Minho tries to politely excuse himself, thankful when Younghyun seems to recognize that. “Thanks for the mail.”

 

   “Oh yeah of course, sorry for keeping you. And hey, if you ever want a tour of the island I’d be down. My younger brother and his friends are about your age, maybe when you get settled you could come over mine and I could introduce you if you’d like.”

 

    _I very much would not like._ Minho thinks to himself but tries his best to smile and nod, feeling the tightness in his lips. “Yeah, sounds cool.”

 

   Minho doesn’t want to think about meeting people right now, he’s already exhausted and sick of this island, hating how every person he passes by will give him a double take then smile at him as if they’ve known him all his life, and didn’t just look at him like he was a fucking alien.

  

   This town is way too small, and when Minho gets back to the house after almost running out of the shop he just wants to lie down on his mattress among all of his clothes he hasn’t put away yet and sleep the whole summer away.

 

   Alas, Auntie Yoo slaved away over dinner, trying to make it a good first night, so Minho drags himself to the table and does his best to eat half his plate. They don't talk too much, and Minho is grateful that Yoo seems to recognize that Minho is purely exhausted, and can barely keep his chopsticks right in his grip. 

 

   “Here, I’ll clean up. You look dead on your feet sweetheart.” Auntie Yoo picks up his plate from in front of him and hesitates for a second before moving away. “Go on to bed, it’s been a long day for you.”

 

   Minho doesn't argue. 

 

   The sun has only just started to slip towards the horizon, but Minho is so overstimulated, and the idea of curling up in a nice pair of pajama pants and his soft hoodie he has waiting for him on the armrest of the couch is like heaven on earth.

 

   Minho only manages to put the hoodie on, giving up on pajama pants when it takes him almost a full two minutes to unbutton his jeans.

 

   “Fuck this.” Minho flops down on the bed among his clothes and bunches up the fabric of his hoodie under his nose to block out the unfamiliar scent of the mattress and blankets. He hopes a better nights rest will make tomorrow more bearable, ignoring the sound of a pile of clothes falling off the mattress when he pulls his legs up to his chest.

 

   Minho falls asleep soon after the sun reaches the horizon, watching with tired eyes as the sky turns orange right before he falls asleep, his entire body tense and uncomfortable even as he drifts off.

 

 _I wanna go home._ Minho thinks right before his eyes fall shut, unable to think of exactly where he means when he says home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to message and yell at me on any of my social media 
> 
> twt: @luway02  
> tblr: @curlychans  
> insta: @luway02
> 
> comments/kudos are greatly appreciated ♡


	2. a silent melody

   Waking up with time on your hands kind of sucks, Minho realizes.

 

   When school was still in session it wasn't a problem. Minho woke up and knew exactly what he was doing that day. Knew exactly what he would be doing as soon as he got home, all the way to the moment he fell asleep that night. Now he wakes up before the sun has even come close to reaching the horizon, and is left to wonder why he can't seem to sleep.

 

   The mattress is perfectly comfortable even without an actual bed, and he can feel the lack of sleep weighing down on his limbs, but when it comes to trying to fall asleep it's like an uphill battle.

 

   Sometimes Minho wonders if it became quiet enough around him, whether others would be able to hear the whirring of his brain as it refused to settle and rest.

 

   The house doesn’t have any air conditioning other than the ceiling fan in the main room, so Minho has been sleeping with the window open most nights. The sound of the ocean is softer than what Minho’s used to, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to sleep if it was completely silent either.

 

   Not after years of living in a city that never sleeps.

 

   He doesn’t really think too much about leaving the window open until he wakes up one morning to a spot of warmth pressed up against his ribcage and a faint snuffling by his armpit.

 

   It doesn’t strike him as weird until he feels something prickling at his bicep, several points that scrape at the skin through his thin pajama shirt every few seconds. Plus an odd rumbling sound that drowns out the waves outside and the squeaky hinges of the window as it's blown around.

 

   The sun has just barely begun to reach the horizon when Minho opens his eyes, but he can easily see the small ball of fluff curled up in his armpit with the faint light already there.

 

   “Hmp—?” Minho groans and lifts his head to look at the cat. The same one from the first day he arrived.

 

   The animal is thin, but a ball of white and orange fur nestled in the space between his arm and chest. The tip of its tail curls and uncurls where it’s wrapped around its body.

 

   It amazes Minho that something so small is purring so loudly.

 

   One of the cats eyes peek open to reveal a green orb with a slit of black through it, and Minho hesitates to touch the animal or move for fear of scaring it away. The arm that rest across his stomach means his hand is right next to the small animals head. 

 

   “Hi there buddy.” Minho whispers, voice thick from sleep as he lifts a finger in front of the felines nose and watches it twitch as it sniffs him.

 

   Minho decides that the cat must not mind him when it begins to knead his rib cage, and the rumbling grows louder once again.

 

   “Aren’t you precious.”

 

   Minho hums as he runs his finger down the soft patches of fur on the kitties head and chest. “You can be my friend, right?”

 

   The cat chirrups in response, and Minho feels his heart begin to melt.

 

 

 

   Aunt Yoo knocks on his door to wake him up—as if she isn’t aware that Minho has been up for hours—and asks Minho if he’s hungry. She peeks through the door, but comically covers her eyes with her hand as she speaks.

 

   “A little.” Minho says, even though his stomach isn’t looking for food; not realizing that it’s summer and Minho has time for breakfast now. The sweet smell wafting through the door lulls it awake though, and he can feel a small rumble as he breathes the scent in deeply.

 

   The kitty has moved from his armpit in favor of curling up in the space between his crossed legs, after Minho decided to sit up and watch the sunrise much earlier. 

 

   Aunt Yoo doesn't seem to notice her. 

 

   She hasn't don't much but sleep, purr, and knead on Minho all morning, but there's something therapeutic about being able to run his fingers through the patch of fluffy white fur on her tummy. The faint pulse of the kitties heart under his fingers when he stills his hand doesn't cure the feeling of loneliness, but Minho can feel it ebb a little. 

 

   “Great! I usually make pancakes, do you mind if I put some fruit in them?.” Aunt Yoo asks as she walks away. The house is small enough that Minho can still hear her clearly from the other room if his door is left open.

 

   She seems to take his silence as an answer as she continues to cook.

 

   Minho gently removes his legs from under the cat.

 

   He wonders if Yoo would mind if he decided to keep the little thing inside with him, rubbing the kitties chin one last time before he gets up.

 

 

 

   Minho decides to ask later when he’s sure she’s in a good mood—or better yet distracted—as he shrugs on an old zip up sweater over his pajama shirt. 

 

   He shakes out one of the tablets from the bottles hidden in the back of his closet and pops it into his mouth before he goes, tossing the bottle back into the closet. 

 

   He can feel the pill as it creeps down his throat, but he’s grown used to taking them without water, so it’s only a minor discomfort that he easily shakes off. 

 

 

   Minho is glad that it warmed up so quickly, because he definitely hadn’t packed for the weather when he first arrived, and two days of wearing the same jeans made him feel gross.

 

   “I try and make these every Saturday, like a little congratulations for making it through the week.” Yoo flips one of the pancakes, the small kitchen a mess around her as she works.

 

   The dining room is really just a wall with a small circular table pushed almost up against it, and four chairs surrounding it.

 

   Minho likes it because he doesn’t have to turn his head too far to see Aunt Yoo, and because of the giant window to his left. It shows the view of the rocky shore further down the island, and let's in the light of the morning sun come into the room. 

 

   “Here ya go,” Yoo says before setting down a small plate of steaming pancakes, perfectly cooked it seems. “I hope you don’t mind bananas.”

 

   Minho pours syrup onto the fluffy pancakes as Yoo unlatches the window and pushes the panes out, allowing a weak breeze of warm air waft into the house and the sun to filter in as it makes its way past where the ocean meets the sky and fills the room with a pleasant natural light.

 

   “Do you like them?”

 

   Aunt Yoo asks Minho suddenly, and he would love to tell her that he does very much, that they’re perfectly cooked with a dash of something that tastes suspiciously of cinnamon with the banana. It doesn’t seem like it would work but it does, and Minho has never tasted something so, well, tasty before. He wants to tell her he would take this over a five star meal any day, because the war,th that comes from the middle of the pancakes when he bites into them is just a degree too hot but it makes him like it even more.

 

   He would love to tell her, but she asks him just as he shoves a giant bite into his mouth, so Minho struggles to speak around the mush of pancake and banana.

 

   “Yesh,” Minho puts a hand over his mouth as he swallows. “Sorry—I love them, they’re amazing.”

 

   He blushes when he hears Aunt Yoo’s laughter—a distinct cackling giggle that you only hear in two places: cartoons, and from Minho himself.

 

   They spend the rest of breakfast in a comfortable silence after that, the crash of waves against the shore a nice contrast to the stifling silence that Minho usually wakes up to at the apartment. Aunt Yoo mentions work, and how she’ll be editing a novel for the next few days so she might not be available.

 

   “I’ll be busy but just for a few days, then we can hang out. I’ll be done by the end of the week for sure.”

 

   Minho just nods and finishes off his pancakes. He wonders if it’s because she’s a bad liar and she knows it. His dad would always say the same thing, he just wouldn’t look so guilty when he did: _‘Once I finish with this I’ll come and play Minho just please leave me alone right now’._

 

   The difference was that he always believed his dad when he said so, at least for a while longer than he should have.

 

   When Minho returns to his room, the kitten is gone, and he tries not to let the sinking feeling of loneliness get to him.

 

 

 

_“So how are things there?”_

 

   “It kind of sucks. Not as bad as I thought it’d be, but it still sucks.”

 

   Minho holds the phone around his mouth as he speaks, hearing a tinny rustling sound coming from the speaker as Hyunjin moves around.

 

   So far Hyunjin has called him almost every day, mostly keeping Minho company while he finished unpacking and grew more accustomed to waking up in an unfamiliar room.

 

   A whole week into his stay and Minho had managed to slink around the house and avoid his aunt’s offers to go into town with her to buy groceries and meet the locals. His mother called last night, but he just let the phone ring, not even surprised when she didn’t call again or even text him afterwards to make sure he wasn’t dead or something.

 

   His kitty friend hasn’t come back, even though he hasn’t closed the window since.

 

 _“You have to go outside Minho!”_ Hyunjin had exclaimed when Minho admitted that he was acting like a hermit.

 

   “Yeah right.” Minho had snorted, perfectly comfortable in hanging out at the house. There were plenty of interesting things to do around here.

 

_“If you don’t go outside I’ll hang up and I won’t call you for the rest of the summer.”_

 

   On some level Minho knew that it was an empty threat, and that Hyunjin would miss him way too much to actually ignore him for the whole summer, but it still made him worry, because _what if_. The only reason he left his room at all at this point was because the reception was just a little bit better than in his room.

 

   It still gets him out of the house though.

 

 _“You know I was talking to my mom about the island and she said that we have family there! How freaking cool is that?”_ Hyunjin says, voice loud out of excitement. Minho’s eyebrows raise in surprise. _“She said I might be able to stay a few nights if he’s okay with it.”_

 

   “That’d be awesome Jinnie.” Minho feels himself breaking into a smile at the thought of seeing Hyunjin after so long, they hadn’t seen each other face to face since last summer when Minho convinced his parents that he was going to the park to study.

 

   As one does when there is no school in session.

 

   His parents didn’t question him once.

 

 

 

 

_“Have you made any friends yet?”_

 

   Minho thinks for a while, wondering if the cashier he met on his first night counts as a friend. He doesn’t think so, seeing as Younghyun had to be at least five years older than him, and they barely had a conversation. Maybe if Minho took Younghyun up on his offer to meet his brother and his friends—Nah.

 

   “Not yet, there’s not a lot of people around here. I’ve seen some people my age but I dunno…”

 

   Minho kicks at a pebble in the road he walks down. He’s probably walked a mile out from the house, down some long dirt road that might loop around the entire island for all he knows. There’s only one way to go to get back to the house though, so Minho isn’t too worried about getting lost.

 

_“Minho, you’re there for two whole months, you’ve gotta say hi to people sometime.”_

 

   He can almost hear the pout in Hyunjin’s voice.

 

   “Maybe.”

 

 _“Hmph,”_ Hyunjin huffs, the sound crackling through Minho’s phone speaker. _“Well, you get to it, my mom’s dragging me out shopping today for dad’s birthday. Text you when I get home?”_

 

   Minho chuckles and sighs, thumb hovering over the End Call button. “Yeah, sounds good. See you soon hopefully.”

 

 _“Bye! Love you Minho!”_ Hyunjin drags out the last syllable of Minho’s name until it’s cut off by the call ending.

 

 

   Talking with Hyunjin always manages to make Minho feel better, but it only last so long before Minho looks around and realizes how far he actually is from the house. The time of the call says he had been talking to Hyunjin for almost two hours, which means even if he walks quickly it’ll take him at least an hour or so to get home at this point.

 

   “Great.” Minho’s shoulders sag and he rubs his temple, wondering if by some stroke of luck a car will drive by and offer him a ride. Then again, Minho isn’t too sure if the same rules apply here as they do to the rest of the world, and if getting in a car with a stranger would be a stupid idea.

 

   The walk back shouldn’t be too bad, the weather is cool enough that he isn’t sweating—the weather having one last hurrah before summer truly begins, and enough clouds are covering the sun that he probably won’t get a sunburn.

 

   So Minho plugs in his earbuds and starts walking.

 

   To his left is the edge of the island, the ocean stretching out into an endless expanse of blue from where waves crash against the rocky shore.

 

   Minho can see why his parents thought to send him here, with only the crunch of his shoes along the road, the island is actually very peaceful. The trees are still lush and green from the peak of spring, and Minho can hear the soft chirrup of afternoon crickets as he walks.

 

   His parents thought a change of scenery would be good for him, while Minho himself hadn’t been too sure about the whole thing.

 

   The last time his parents planned a trip for him they decided they were going to send him to Japan for spring break.

 

   Somehow it had slipped their minds that Minho had been studying _Mandarin,_  not Japanese.

 

   Minho spent a whole week feeling as if he was going to vomit whenever someone tried to talk to him, though it got a bit better when he finally managed to get ahold of his parents and they hired a translator. They were told there were no plane tickets available back to Seoul with so little warning, so Minho ended up stuck. It was awful.

 

   Minho spent a week stuck in Japan, and his mother apologized to him by giving him a new laptop when he got back.

 

   For her sake, Minho let her believe he was fine. No harm no foul, his father would always say the same when he was pissed off about something but didn’t want anyone to know.

 

 

 

 

 

   Minho is reaching the last stretch of his walk home when he finds himself walking alongside a sandy beach right by the town, having finally reached the other end of the island. Aunt Yoo’s house is still a ways away, but a landmark calms Minho, who had been starting to worry when his phone died a few minutes earlier.

 

   Minho _should_ have sucked it up and walked in silence, but the temptation of music was too good. He hasn’t bothered to take his earbuds out yet though.

 

   Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees a streak of white and blue running past him. It takes him a second to recognize the streak as a pale boy in blue swim shorts running across the street and right through the dunes of sand, screaming his lungs out as his legs hit the water and he trips face first into the waves.

 

   Minho’s heart takes a moment to catch up with his brain, but slowly returns to its normal rate as he watches the boy swim out to a group of boys floating with a bunch of surfboards.

 

   It seemed likely that surfing was popular around here, as Minho remembers seeing a few boys when he first arrived, and a few boards leaned up against the wall in the back of the shop.

 

   Minho doesn’t stop walking, but slows down as he watches the group of boys splash around in the water. It seems far too cold and dreary to swim in his opinion, but none of the boys seem to have a problem with the temperature or the thin grey clouds that cover most of the sky.

 

   “ _Get back here you punk!”_

 

   One of the boys runs out of the water, wet hair framing his face as he pushes it off his forehead. Sand clings to his calves as he runs, kicking up small waves of the stuff. The color of his hair is older a few shades darker than the sandy beach, Minho thinks to himself.

 

   “Come on, don’t be a wuss ‘Sung!”

 

   Minho watches the boy heave and catch his breath, halfway between the road where Minho is and the edge of the water where the rest of his friends seem to be climbing on their boards and preparing to swim further off from the beach.

 

   It takes a moment for Minho to avert his eyes, not willing to be caught staring at the local boy. He doubts anything good would happen if he was.

 

   Aunt Yoo tells him that all the locals are nice—including the ones his age—but people act differently when adults are around, and Minho doesn’t trust his aunt’s judgement. Not when too many times he’s watched the same people who beat down others play a fucking angel as soon as an adult came along to ask what was going on.

 

_“Hey!”_

 

   Minho hears a new voice calling out, but doesn’t think much of it, until it calls again.

 

_“Hey you!”_

 

   He glances over in the direction of the yelling, and Minho feels his body tense when he makes eye contact with the boy with dark blonde hair, almost tripping over his own foot. The boy looks curious, and Minho can’t blame him.

 

   Minho probably looks like a fish out of fucking water all bundled up in his hoodie and jeans while they’re all out swimming as if it's ten degrees warmer than it really is.

 

   Minho panics as soon as he realizes _he’s_ being stared at, his head snapping back to where it had been before and staring at the ground in front of him as he quickens his pace down the road into town.

 

   He wishes he hadn’t made eye contact with the boy, because maybe then he could play it off like he hadn’t heard him, but he did, and Minho could see the split second of confusion in his eyes before he looked away.

 

_Oh well._

 

   Let them think he’s weird, Minho doesn’t care. He doesn't feel like figuring out whether or not the boys here are like the boys back at home, not yet. There's still time for him to walk away now.

 

_“Who was that?”_

 

_“I dunno!”_

 

   Their voices fade as they paddle away, and Minho wishes for a moment that he had more confidence, wondering if he had some sense of how to interact with strangers he might end up with a friend by the end of the summer. The thought makes him fall into the regular pit of self deprecation and all the nasty thoughts he had about himself.

 

   Too loud or too quiet, too odd, not interesting enough for mom and dad to remember.

 

   A few years ago, the thoughts were like a sharp rock lodged in his shoe, hurting him whenever he stepped carelessly. Now after years of the same treatment and thoughts, the stone is smooth, nothing but a dull throb in Minho’s heart as he continues to walk.

 

 

 

 

   The town had been mostly boarded up and deserted when Minho arrived, fronds from the palm trees clogging up the sewers as rainwater continued to flow down from the mountain long after the downpour had ended. Now the small shoppes are ready for business, and Minho tries to keep his head down as he makes his way down the road where Younghyun's shop will mark the way to take him home.

 

   There’s a part of him that can feel people staring, and he fights the urge to wipe his palms on his jeans when they start to sweat.

 

   “Crap—!”

 

   Minho nearly jumps out of his skin when a boy his age comes barreling out of the alley beside him, tumbling to the ground as the body boards he was carrying go flying out over the street.

 

   Minho’s first instinct is to drag the boy out from the way of any cars coming, until he remembers that barely anyone drives around here so there’s not a single car in sight, or in danger of hitting the boy.

 

   “Are you okay?” Minho places a hand on the boy’s shoulder and helps him up, glancing down to see a nasty looking scrapes on his knees. He grimaces at the sight of all the bits of dirt and tiny rocks clinging to the wound.

 

   “Yeah,” The boy winces as he bends his knee cautiously. “Sorry, I should have watched where I was going.”

 

   Minho detects an accent to the words, and wonders if it’s some kind of dialect he somehow hasn’t heard from the island yet, it’s not like he’s talked to many people who live here yet. Sure there was Younghyun, but he seemed to keep his Seoul dialect, so Minho really can’t tell.

 

   “Can I help?” Minho asks with an unsure tone, already gathering up the body boards and handing two to the boy when he insists on taking them.

 

   “I’m just going across the street, if you don’t mind.” The boy motions to one of the houses, a pale blue diner with a white deck and shutters.

 

   Minho doesn’t know why a diner would need body boards, but he doesn’t question it as he helps the boy across the street—unable to resist the habit of looking both ways before they start.

 

   The diner is pretty much empty when they walk in besides another boy around Minho’s age who’s wiping down one of the tables with a waist apron tied loosely around his hips.

 

   Minho is glad he’s not the only one wearing a sweater in this weather when he sees the diner boy has a grey sweater on with the sleeves rolled up as he works—as the rest of the island hasn’t seemed to get the memo that it’s fucking cold out right now.

 

   Though the boy who fell does have a thin cardigan on though, so Minho supposes he’s on thin ice at least.

 

   “Took you long enough—Woah, are you okay Felix?” The boy abandons the table he was working on and immediately starts fussing over the other boy, _Felix_ apparently. “What happened?”

 

   “I tripped on the curb across the street.” Felix winces as Diner Boy makes him sit at one of the few booths.

 

   Minho shuffles off to the side and sets the body boards down with the two Felix dropped when they arrived.

 

   Diner Boy seems to watch him out of the corner of his eye for a moment before kneeling beside Felix, using a clean rag to clean off the wound of all the dirt and stones. Minho makes a face as Felix clenches his teeth, his muscles visibly tensing as Diner Boy continues.

 

   Minho isn’t sure whether he should stay or leave, but he doesn’t want to be caught sneaking away, and he wants to make sure Felix is okay before he goes.

 

   “So who’s your friend?”

 

   “Oh um,” Felix looks to Minho, as if he had forgotten he was even there.

 

   Minho feels like a deer caught in headlights.

 

   “I’m Minho.” He sticks his hand out clumsily. “I uh, I’m not from around here.”

 

   “Ah, another summer boy then. Felix and I are the same, my name’s Chan.” Diner Boy introduces himself properly, nothing about his voice or posture giving away that he could probably feel the slight tremor in Minho’s hand, and the clamminess of his palm.

 

   “The same?”

 

   “Oh yeah, we come up here every summer with my parents.” Chan grins, disappearing into the back of the store to pop back out a second later with a first aid kit in hand. “Felix is my cousin, we’ve been doing this every year since we were about…”

 

   “Five years old, seven for you.” Felix supplies and Chan nods as he pulls out some disinfectant and bandages.

 

   “What about you though? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

 

   “I’m here at my aunt’s house, Yoo Jiyeon.” Minho says, reaching over to help Chan rip open the package of wipes to clean Felix’s scrape when he can’t quite get it himself.

 

   Upon closer inspection Minho can see a multitude of band aids covering Felix’s body. Some are tan and are harder to spot, while others are covered in bright patterns and cute characters. Minho guesses by the amount of boxes of band aids in the first aid kit that Felix and minor injuries go together like a fish and water.

 

   “Ah! We know Auntie Yoo!” Felix smiles brightly as Chan bandages him up. “She used to babysit us when Channie was too young to do it.”

 

   It seems like Auntie Yoo babysat a lot of kids, yet within the first week of Minho arriving she’s off working all day. Minho isn’t sure why the thought fills him with such a strange feeling of upset, like he’s missing something that wasn’t ever his to begin with.

 

   They talk for a while, though it’s mostly Minho listening to Felix and Chan go back and forth about their hometown and how much fun the island is to visit. He hears several names tossed around but he can’t remember any of them, and when Felix and Chan suddenly switch to English and return on a completely different topic Minho allows himself to just observe.

 

   “We should hang out Minho, we could show you around the island sometime.” Chan says suddenly, and Minho nods thoughtlessly.

 

   “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

   If anything he can just tell them he’s busy if they somehow bump into each other sometime later in the summer, ‘cause right now Minho is so exhausted mentally he thinks he could go comatose for at least a month. He had forgotten how tiring socializing could be.

 

   “Awesome!” Felix pipes up, sunshine grin gracing his features. “We’re hanging out at our friend Seungmin’s house tonight, you can meet everyone! Seungmin’s older brother is in a band, you should hear their music—”

 

   “Okay Lix, don’t overwhelm the guy.” Chan chuckles as he slides out of the booth, retrieving his waist apron from where he hung it up previously. “It’s gonna be a chill thing, just us watching the band play some music. You should go.”

 

   Minho tries to think of something to excuse him from the party, but something tells him that even if he did convince Chan and Felix he couldn’t go then Aunt Yoo would somehow find out with that crazy sixth sense of hers when it came to ‘Minho finding friends’ and make him go anyways.

 

   Honestly that woman knew when everything was happening on this island, and had nearly forced Minho out of the house several times already.

 

   “Yuh—Yeah that sounds cool. I’ll be there.”

 

   Minho regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

 

   At least Aunt Yoo will be proud of him.


	3. real time gaslight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd as usual, enjoy!

  Minho is close to a full blown panic by the end of the day, pacing his room and picking at his shirt. The blue button up gets tossed onto the mattress with all of the other shirts Minho owns, ruining all the hard work he put into unpacking.

 

  Honestly though it's so low on the list of things Minho is worried about right now he couldn't care less.

 

  He sits at the window, the soles of his shoes brushing over the bushes below where his leg hangs out. Minho can feel the edge of the window sill digging into the back of his head but it gives himself something to focus on besides what he _should_ be doing.

 

  Minho looks down at the pack in his hands, the cover nearly falling off with how many times Minho has opened and closed it since he bought it. Sometimes to use it, other times just because he needs to do something with his hands. The shape of the box is waning from being stuffed in his backpack carelessly.

 

  Out of twenty, there are only five cigarettes left in the pack, and Minho tries to remember the last time he had one, the last time he breathed in and felt the tremors in his hands melt away as the nicotine filled up his lungs. He remembers his eyes watering as the smoke drifted past his face in a thick cloud, and the burn of his lungs when he took his last drag, trying to make it last before the warmth melted away.

 

  He’s not allowed to smoke anymore, both by his parents decision and a moral one as well. Not since those bottles came into his life. When _they_ became a bigger secret than Minho’s need to light up when he felt like this.

 

  Panicky, sweaty, like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

 

  He knows where his lighter is, right in the front pocket of his backpack, but he can’t do it. Not now.

 

  Aunt Yoo wouldn’t ignore it the way his parents did, and he doesn’t want to show up to meet a bunch of new people and have them think he’s like _that._ Cause he’s not, or at least he hasn’t been for a while.

 

  Minho tosses the pack into his bag and throws the whole thing into his closet with the rest of his demons, letting out a shaky breath when he closes the door. He presses his hand into the wood, waiting for his fingers to stop trembling before reaching into his pocket.

 

  Felix had scribbled an address on a napkin from the booth they sat at, as well as a crude sketch of the house on the other side.

 

_It's the only house with a garage on this side of the island!!!!!_

_Seungmin’s place! Just knock!!_

 -  _ _Felix__

 

 

  And yes. The note really did have eight exclamation points on it.

 

  Minho had nearly forgotten about the whole thing when he finally made it to Yoo’s, until he picked up his sweater and the napkin slipped out of his pocket, reminding him of what he had agreed to.

 

  He crumpled the paper up at first, planning on tossing it and _actually_ forgetting about the whole thing. He probably wouldn't bump into Felix or Chan for a while if he avoided town, and he could say ‘something came up’ if they ever did speak again.

 

  The only thing is that nothing ever comes up on this island.

 

  Minho had told Yoo about the party as soon as he remembered, and watched her go through several different emotions before she seemed to settle on one and gave him a proud smile. She seemed happy that he was going out of the house. He had texted Hyunjin as soon as he walked out of the diner, and his friend  seemed to be ecstatic that Minho was ‘making friends’ as he called it. Hyunjin had promised to video chat with him before the party started, but so far all Minho had received was radio silence and a notification for a spam email lighting up his lock screen.

 

  Minho thinks Aunt Yoo is worried he gets lonely when he’s alone all day while she’s at work, but he likes the quiet.

 

  For the most part.

 

  “Aunt Yoo?” Minho peeks out of his room, scanning the main room for a moment. She isn’t home yet.

 

  He’s all alone.

 

  Minho breathes in until his lungs are so full they ache, and holds his breath for a moment before letting it all go.

 

 _You can do this. You’ve got this._ Minho keeps thinking over and over as he looks at his reflection in the old television in the lounge, lips pressing together when he sees how skinny he looks. He knows on some level it’s the television screen morphing his reflection as it curves in the middle, but he can’t seem to just walk away.

 

  Minho feels his teeth digging into his lower lip as he looks back to his room. He promised himself that he wouldn’t fall back onto his safety blankets anymore, to the point where he even forced himself to pack up most of his hoodies in his closet at home before he could put them in his suitcase. It seems like old habits always die hard though. 

 

  The one hoodie he did manage to slip through his resolve to leave them all is huge on him, but the vague familiarity of its weight on his shoulders and the sleeves sliding down to reach just past his fingertips manages to ease some of his anxieties as he walks out the door. 

 

  All the way to the house, Minho keeps pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Felix didn’t say when exactly to come, just that band practice starts at six thirty. It’s almost seven now so the sun is still up, but it’s slowly going down, and Minho doesn’t want to get caught in the dark when he just barely knows his way around during the day.

 

  “Two to the right,” Minho reminds himself under his breath.

 

  He reaches the street easy enough, the garage in plain view off the side of the house, just like Felix said it would be in his note.

 

  Minho is just about to reach the steps that lead up to the door when his phone buzzes in his hoodie pocket. One look at the screen and a lump builds in his throat; a blank screen with the word Mom in big letters at the top.

 

  His mom called him a few days ago, but he hadn’t bothered answering. The same lump had formed then as now, like one of his pills.

 

  Minho’s face is devoid of emotion as he swallows around the lump, watching as his thumb twitches over the power button and the buzzing is silenced, letting his moms call ring through. If she calls him again, he might answer, but he doubts it will happen.

 

  It doesn't. 

 

  He doesn’t have much time to think about it before the door swings open, revealing a young man with reddish brown hair who looks surprised to see him.

 

  “Oh, hi there, who are you?” The man has a pleasant voice, and smiles at Minho like they’re old friends, as if Minho isn’t some stranger on his front steps. “Are you a friend of Seungminie’s? I’m Wonpil.”

 

  “Hi.” Minho waves, the movement wooden and awkward. “I uh, I was invited by Felix?”

 

  “Oh yeah! They mentioned you. They’re in the backyard moving some stuff around.”

 

  Wonpil steps back to allow Minho through the threshold, and points him down the main hall, Minho tries not to be too nosy as he glances around the home when he steps inside.

 

  “Right down the hall there’s a sliding door to the yard, just yell if you get lost.” Wonpil smiles brightly at Minho, who feels his lips twitch upwards in a polite response.

 

  Wonpil doesn’t seem worried about Minho wandering around as he disappears into the next room. There’s a distant crash from what Minho assumes to be the backyard, so he decides to start there.

 

  “It’s a surprise, leave it alone!” Minho hears an unfamiliar voice hiss, like they're scolding a child.

 

  The garage opens to a parking space in the backyard where the driveway wraps around, and once Minho steps off the porch he can see into the garage, which is strangely empty of any cars. There’s equipment though, an old drum set in the back, two electric guitars set up against the wall, and a keyboard to his right.

 

  At the mouth of the garage there are three boys huddled around something. Minho recognizes one of them as Chan, but the other two are strangers to him as he descends from the porch.

 

  He wonders if he should announce his presence somehow.

 

  “Um—” Minho starts, but finds his voice caught in his throat when all three boys turn around and stare.Chan’s eyes widening in recognition when he sees him.

 

  “Minho, hey!” Chan smiles and stands up from where he was kneeling, standing between Minho and the other two boys. “Guys this is Minho, the guy Felix and I were telling you about. Minho, this is Seungmin and this is Woojin.”

 

  “Kim Woojin.” The tallest of the three waves, and Minho bows politely. “Chan said you’re here for the summer?”

 

  “Yeah, I’m staying with my aunt.”

 

  Woojin looks like he’s about to say something else when Minho hears a squeal from behind him and turns to see a flash of blonde hair before someone jumps him.

 

  “You came! I was worried you’d get lost!” Felix squeals as he squeezes Minho's shoulders. “Chan said not to worry but the island can be confusing when you’re new and I wasn’t sure—”

 

  “Alright, alright.” Chan steps up and drags Felix off Minho by his collar, a fond smile on his face as he ruffles Felix's hair affectionately. “Don’t smother him.”

 

  “Sorry.” Felix blushes, slipping out of Chan’s grasp to grab the box he had been holding when he noticed Minho. “I got the lights.”

 

  "We're just setting up right now Minho, feel free to hang around." Seungmin explains before going to help Felic with something. 

 

 

  For the next half hour or so, Minho isn’t sure what to do.

 

  The boys all work together to pull supplies out of the garage and decorate the backyard, Woojin sticking long sticks into the ground and lighting the tops on fire as Felix and another boy named Changbin wrap fairy lights around the railings of the porch. Seungmin drags an old couch out of the corner of the garage and tells Minho it’s okay if he wants to sit down and get comfortable while they set up. So Minho does.

 

  He feels bad, but he wouldn’t know how to help even if he could.

 

  They all seem to know what to do without thought, and something tells Minho they do this pretty often for them to work so well together.

 

  After a while Wonpil comes out of the house with a young man around his age, both of them going into the garage and checking the speakers at the back.

 

  Wonpil chatters away while the other boy sits at the drums, smiling and responding occasionally when prompted but not saying much otherwise. When Minho looks closer he can see that Seungmin and Wonpil look extremely similar, which is why he isn’t surprised at all when Chan walks by and informs him that they are in fact siblings.

 

  Honestly, they even have the same hair color.

 

  The rest of the band shows up and the yard is suddenly filled with a steady beat of drums and guitars as the band warms up, though Minho notices one last guitar stand is propped up against the wall on its own, and empty of the instrument it's meant to hold. 

 

  So far Minho has met and been introduced to everyone here; The bands guitarists Jae and Sungjin, their drummer Dowoon, keyboardist Wonpil, Seungmin, Woojin, Felix, Chan, and two new boys Jeongin and Changbin. It’s a long list of names that Minho is trying his best to remember and associate with the faces that flit past him. Just in case someone tries to say hello when Minho isn't prepared. 

 

  “Are they waiting for someone?” Minho whispers to Chan when he finally settles down on the sofa beside him, watching the band linger around their instruments but make no move to play them anymore than they already have.

 

  “Yeah, their bassist, Younghyun.” Chan must see a flicker of recognition in Minho eyes. “You know him?”

 

  Minho thinks back to his first night and nods. “Yeah, he was working at the convenience store.”

 

  “He’s working there again?” Chan looks surprised for a moment before continuing. “He’s been at school in the city for a while so this is kind of like a welcome home party for him. His younger brother is actually one of our friends, Jisung. He’s super nice, I think you two would hit it off.”

 

  Just as Chan finishes speaking, two figures appear from around the corner of the house.

 

  The two guys look similar in some ways, with the same facial structure, but the one with a guitar case hanging off his shoulder is a familiar face to Minho.

 

  “Younghyun! Where the fuck have you been dude?” Jae asks as he tunes his guitar once more. He doesn’t sound annoyed or anything though. “We were supposed to start like twenty minutes ago.”

 

  “Sorry guys, Jisung was being a diva again.”

 

  Younghyun’s lips press together like he’s trying to hide a smile, and Minho watches the younger of the two, _Jisung_ , swat at Younghyun and make a noise of complaint.

 

  “Awe c’mon Jisungie, we all know you use those bb creams,” Changbin teases from the deck where he’s just finishing the lights up with Felix, plugging them in and illuminating the whole yard with a pleasant glow.

 

  “I will not hesitate to murder you Seo Changbin.”

 

  As Jisung grows closer Minho finds himself in awe of the boy. He would almost call himself speechless—if he hadn't have been practically silent for the past hour already.

 

  Jisung is one of the prettiest people Minho has ever seen, and he truly means that in every way. He looks like a fucking model, like someone you would see on instagram with thousands of followers—someone who knows they’re beautiful and uses it to their full advantage. The gentle waves of blonde hair poke out from under his old baseball cap in soft almost-curls, and Minho wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through them. He wonders if Jisung has flecks of gold in his eyes or if they’re more of a warm chocolate brown—he can’t tell from where he is now.

 

  The boy radiates summer vibes with the way he fills out the shirt he wears perfectly, tanned skin contrasting beautifully against the dusty rose color of his t-shirt. His white-washed jeans, rolled up to his mid calf and a pair of navy chucks that end just below his ankles complete the look.

 

  “What's up guys?”

 

  Jisung falls onto the couch with a small huff of air, right beside Chan. Minho averts his eyes when he finds himself mapping out the slope of Jisung’s nose of all things.

 

  “Hey 'Sungie. You go out surfing today?” Felix asks.

 

  “Yeah, Jeongin Changbin and I went around the west side of the island. We saw some dude by the shops on our way out, I had never seen him before—”

 

  Minho knows he’s staring when Jisung’s eyes flicker over to meet his, and the whole world seems to slow for a split second. Minho averts his gaze a second too late, cheeks burning when he realizes Jisung caught him.

 

 _Great first impression creep._ Minho berates himself in his head.

 

  “Oh, Jisung, this is Minho,” Chan leans back so Jisung can see Minho properly, as he’s sitting between them. “He’s staying here for the summer.”

 

  “Hi.” Minho waves, voice coming out much more airy than he meant it to. It’s better than it breaking and making him sound like some half developed pre teen though.

 

  “Hey, I’m Jisung.” A hand is suddenly in Minho’s line of view.

 

  There’s a moment of uncomfortable hesitation before Minho reaches over to take Jisung’s hand, suddenly overcome with the sound of his father's voice in his head. Drilling the ‘proper etiquette’ of shaking someone's hand, especially someone you want to make a good impression on.

 

_Squeeze firmly to show you aren't weak, don't let your hand by sweaty before you make contact, make eye contact._

 

  Minho swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to meet Jisung's eyes with his own when he takes his hand. He’s almost immediately shocked by the warmth that spreads up his arm with the contact. Jisung's steady hand encompassing Minho's own in a firm but gentle squeeze for just a moment.

 

  The stress Minho had been putting on the situation dissipates when he sees Jisung give him a small smile, and release his hand.

 

  The faint warmth of Jisung's hand lingers on his own while the rest of the boys chatter around him, the band setting up properly now that Younghyun is here and has his bass guitar.

 

  “You guys ready?”

 

  Sungjin’s voice is raspy as he calls for their attention, a few cheers coming from the younger boys, Seungmin Woojin and Jisung especially.

 

  Minho wonders if they're fans of the band, or if it's just because of their brothers.

 

  “Let’s get it!”

 

  Jae nods, and suddenly the yard is plunged into darkness by Seungmin from where he stands by the circuit breaker. The area is illuminated by the fairy lights Felix and Changbin put up, and the red neon lights that are hung up at the back of the garage.

 

  Minho watches with interest as the band lean into their microphones, but don't make a move to touch their instruments as they harmonize a single note together.

 

  Then Jae strums his guitar, and the song begins. A slow rock ballad that tugs at Minho's heartstrings as soon as it reaches his ears. Each of the band members voices hitting a different melancholy timbre that pours emotions from every word they sing. Every change of pace. Minho can almost hear a proper backing track to the sounds of the bands instruments.

 

  The song begins and ends with a slower pace to drag it out, and Minho finds himself in awe of the bands skill. He hadn't been sure what to expect when he arrived.

 

  Cheers and applause fill the yard as the band congregates by the drum set, probably going over what to practice.

 

  All of their bands songs are a different sound, but have the same underlying style that Minho decides must be the band itself. Even if Minho has never been the biggest fan of love songs he finds himself loving every single song they play.

 

  Some of the boys have begun to move around as practice continues, but Minho stays at the couch.

 

  “They're performing in a week.”

 

  Minho jumps when he hears someone right beside him, too close for comfort and with no warning to their approach. He turns to see Jisung where Chan had been, but must have moved from sometime during or after the last song.

 

  “It's a big show, like a ‘battle of the bands’ sort of thing. They’ve got to figure out their set list by Friday.”

 

  Jisung’s eyes glimmer as he talks animatedly about the band—he must be a fan. Telling Minho about how hard the band has been practicing, and has even kept their name a secret for months just so they can announce it at the battle.

 

  “Seungmin knows the name already,” Jisung speaks through a pout, and Minho doesn’t think it’s kind of cute. “He says it’s ‘cause he’s doing a project for the band, but I think it’s cause Wonpil is awful at keeping secrets. Younghyun won’t even give me a hint, he’s so mean. Like, he _knows_ how much I love their music… Oh, sorry I’m totally ranting—”

 

  “You’re fine.” The corner of Minho’s lips quirks up into a small smile as he glances down at his hands in his lap. “You really like their music?”

 

  “Oh yeah, Younghyun is so talented and their music is super cool. The one they played first, Letting Go, is my favorite of their rock ballads—”

 

  “Yo Jisungie, come over here for a second.”

 

  Younghyun calls his brother from the garage, where they seem to be looking for something with Wonpil. 

 

  Jisung jumps up and jogs over, and Minho doesn’t take it personally when he doesn’t say goodbye. Their conversation wasn’t really a _conversation_ , not with Minho barely saying a word. Jisung probably was just trying to fill up the silence, he seems like a social person.

 

 

  The pocket of his hoodie begins to vibrate all the sudden, and Minho jumps at the feeling. He pulls out his phone to see Hyunjin’s contact photo lighting up his screen with a request for a video call.

 

  Minho glances around to see most of the boys busy or distracted by something or other around them. So he swipes the green button and hunches over the phone screen, making sure the volume is as low as he can get it while still being able to hear Hyunjin.

 

  “Hey.”

 

  _“Minho! Sorry I couldn’t call you earlier I was at dinner—Hey why does your face look all weird?”_ Hyunjin asks, face getting close to his camera as if it will let him see any more of what is going around him. It won’t, not with Minho’s flushed face taking up most of this screen as he tries to hide his phone.

 

  “I’m at the party now—” Minho cringes as Hyunjin squeals.

 

_“Oh my god really? Minho you’re doing so good sweetie, can I meet everyone?”_

 

  It’s times like these that Minho wishes Hyunjin wasn’t such a social butterfly, that they could at least have that personality trait to share between them. But no, Hyunjin just loves people. Loves meeting them, talking to them, making friends with them. And people love him right back, it’s just who he is. Lovely Hwang Hyunjin.

 

  If only he didn’t have Lee Minho as his friend.

 

  “Uh, no. They’re busy.” Minho shakes his head, ignoring the way Hyunjin pouts and flicks the camera.

 

   _“You’re no fun.”_

 

  “I’m loads of fun, just not right now.” Minho grins, a small giggle slipping past his lips when Hyunjin screws up his face, sticking his tongue out at Minho. Hyunjin smiles sweetly at him though, propping his head up on his hand thoughtfully.

 

  _“Hmph. So are you thinking of leaving me for any of them yet?”_

 

  Minho scoffs at Hyunjin’s teasing, “Yeah, there’s this one kid Chan, cause he’s not an annoying little brat.”

 

  _“I’m hurt Min, really—”_

 

  “Hey, whatcha doin’?”

 

  Minho looks up and over his shoulder to see Jeongin leaning over his shoulder and looking at his phone screen curiously.

 

  Jeongin is the youngest of the bunch here tonight, and Minho would be lying if he said he didn’t already have a soft spot for the kid. There’s just something about the sweetness in his smile but his big personality and his lack of fear to call out his older friends that Minho want to ruffle his hair like Jeongin was his own younger sibling.

 

 _“I’m Minho’s best friend Hyunjin!”_ Hyunjin says excitedly, seeing his chance and sprinting with it.

 

  “Who’s Hyunjin?”

 

  Seungmin pokes his head into the conversation to look at Minho’s phone screen, and all the sudden Changbin too is squishing in between Minho and Jeongin to get a better look and wave at Hyunjin, who is beginning to grow more pixelated from the bad reception outside.

 

  All the sudden Minho’s phone is out of his hand and with Felix’s across the yard, who is talking to Hyunjin with the most animated smile Minho has ever seen as the rest of the kids follow him around, trying to say hello. He’s holding the phone up so Hyunjin can see the yard and introducing him to everyone, even the band members. Minho feels like melting into the ground where he stands.

 

  “This is Chan and Woojin!”

 

  The two oldest look up from where they were restocking the garage cooler, laughing about something between themselves.

 

 _“Minho told me about Chan,”_ Minho can hear Hyunjin still, _“Hi! I’m Hwang Hyunjin, Minho’s best friend in the_ whole world _.”_

 

  He catches sight of his phone screen and sees a bright smile on Hyunjin’s face, eyes screwed up into a smile as he laughs at something Chan said. The rest of the boys are gathered around the phone, asking Hyunjin questions and making comments here and there.

 

“You’re so pretty, woah.”

 

  Queue a shy laugh from Hyunjin.

 

_“Oh I’m—I’m not that special.”_

 

  “That’s your room? City houses are so big!”

 

  “How did you meet Minho?”

 

   _“Oh we met at a modern dance workshop a few years ago, we bumped into each other, found that we were pretty similar and the rest is history.”_

 

  Minho doesn’t say anything as the memory pokes at his subconscious. So much more happened that day, but he and Hyunjin both knew it wasn’t something they talked about. Not even with each other, it wasn’t important. So Minho takes the memory and shoves it back into the box he has in the corner of his mind, where he doesn’t have to look at it if he doesn’t want to.

 

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Minho sees Jisung come out of the house with a coil of thick wires in hand. Jisung sets them down at the edge of the garage before walking up to Felix where he holds the phone.

 

  “Who’s this?”

 

  Minho wishes that Hyunjin didn’t have so much energy, as he greets Jisung with the same enthusiasm he has for everyone else.

 

  “Hi! I’m Hwang Hyunjin, Minho’s friend—”

 

  Jisung glances over to where Minho is standing by the couch still, and Minho realizes he must look absolutely horrified watching the situation unfold. Jisung just gives him a smile though before turning to wave at Hyunjin.

 

  “Hi Hyunjin, I’m Jisung.”

 

  _“Oh you’re pretty,”_ Hyunjin says suddenly. _“I love your shirt.”_

 

  Some alarm goes off in Minho’s head. One that says it’s time for Hyunjin to say goodbye, and for Minho to slap him the next time they see each other.

 

  “This guy?” Changbin chuckles and wraps an arm around Jisung’s shoulders—whose cheeks have turned almost the same color as the shirt he wears. Changbin presses his finger into one of them, squishing Jisung’s cheeks together. “He’s too squirrely to be pretty.”

 

 _“Oh of course, but if it’s not him—”_ Hyunjin’s voice is teasing, but not in a way that Minho has ever heard directed at himself. _“Maybe it’s you then?”_

 

  Changbin’s eyes widen and he looks completely caught off guard for a moment before his face flushes into a dark red color.

 

  “Okay, I think it’s time for Hyunjin to go.” Minho finally says, relieved when Seungmin takes the phone from a pouting Felix and hands it to him without any trouble. “Say goodbye.”

 

   _“You’re no fun Minnie,”_ Hyunjin laughs, but gets up as close to the camera as he can as he waves goodbye to everyone. _“It was nice to meet you all! Take care of Minho while he’s with you!”_

 

  “Bye Hyunjin! Call again sometime!” Jeongin calls out as he waves goodbye. A chorus of agreement sounds as all the boys tell him to call soon, and ask him to visit if he can.

 

  Minho turns away with the phone and glares at Hyunjin once he’s sure no one else can see, making a face when Hyunjin just giggles. He’s lucky Minho can’t seem to stay mad at him for long periods of time.

 

  “ _They_ _seem_ _nice_.”

  

  Minho looks back at the boys—all watching the band as they begin to play another song—and nods in agreement. He doesn’t mention how it’s nice to not be in the house alone for another night, but something about Hyunjin’s smile tells him that his friend doesn’t need to hear him say it. He just knows.

 

  “They are… Are you going to visit soon?” Minho asks, trying not to sound too hopeful in case it will be a while.

 

  “ _I_ _think_ _so_ , _I_ _just_ _got_ _my_ _paycheck_ _for_ _the_ _last_ _two_ _weeks_. _By_ _the_ _next_ _one_ _I’ll_ _have_ _enough_ _for_ _a_ _round_ _trip_. _Then_ _you_ _can_ _show_ _me_ _around_ _the_ _island_.”

 

   They haven’t seen each other in ages, not since last summer. A  year without being able to hang out seems so long, even though they talk almost everyday, even if it’s just to send each other a stupid meme. Minho misses his best friend.

 

  “Minho, food’s ready!”

 

  He hears Chan call out, and sure enough there’s a table  set up that the rest of the boys are practically attacking. It’ll probably all be gone if Minho doesn’t hurry over.

 

 _“Go have fun, I have summer work to do anyways.”_ Hyunjin waves one last time before Minho hangs up the call.

 

  “Bye dude.”

 

  Minho pockets the phone and shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets as he walks over, wondering what kind of food was put out. He sees some crackers and chopped up fruit, and even a still hot pan that must have had some grilled pork belly on it. Minho seems to be too late to the feast though, cause almost all of the good food is gone.

 

  “Minho, hey, I got you a plate.”

 

  Minho turns to see Jisung standing there with an extra plate and pair of chopsticks in hand, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

 

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I took a bit of everything. You learn as you go that food doesn’t last long with them around.” Jisung explains with a small chuckle when Minho takes the plate, grilled pork still steaming and carefully separated from the fruit so they don’t touch. “I hope it’s okay, if it’s not enough you can have some of mine. I eat a lot so my plate is kinda full.”

 

  “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Minho takes the chopsticks from Jisung gratefully, wondering if all the food is set apart because Jisung doesn’t like it touching or he was being considerate in case Minho was picky like that.

 

  Either way, Minho appreciates the effort.

 

  The yard is void of music as everyone chows down on the food made by Seungmin’s mother, who Minho bumped into briefly on his quest to find a bathroom earlier in the night. Much like all the other residents of the island she was a bit older, but endlessly kind as she gave Minho directions and asked him if he had any food allergies before she fed them—Minho told her that he didn’t know of any.

 

  It’s different eating with a bunch of people, Minho realizes.

 

  So far he had only really eaten by himself or with Aunt Yoo, who was a chatterbox but ate well. Which meant their meals could often go through bouts of silence as they both ate their food.

 

  Here though, there was a constant buzz of noise and clinking of chopsticks and forks on plates as everyone ate and talked.

 

  The younger ones share food amongst each other, and Minho finds that Felix definitely is one who loves to eat when he comes around for the _third_ _time_ to pick something off of Minho’s plate. He hums and shows his enthusiasm with wide eyes every time he puts something in his mouth. It’s like watching a child eat their favorite dish over and over for the first time.

 

  Woojin seemed like a very stoic and mature character, but he and the rest of the older boys prove themselves to be very witty and fun to be around. Especially when Woojin begins to imitate Changbin at one point, and Seungmin ends up spraying soda out of his nose from laughing so hard.

 

  Much like Felix, Jisung seems to enjoy food a lot, stuffing his cheeks with the stuff until he really does look like a little squirrel, as Changbin had pointed out earlier.

 

  It feels like a proper family meal.

 

  Minho sits on the ground  between Chan and Woojin while they eat, putting in a word or two as they talk but otherwise just picking at the food left on his plate until Felix comes around one last time and Minho decides to just give the whole thing to the boy—who ends up sharing it with the rest of the boys.

 

  “So Minho, how are you getting home?” Woojin asks suddenly, hand over his mouth as he chews.

 

  “Oh, I’m just walking. I know the way… Kind of.”

 

  “Jisung can walk you home, we live right down the street aways.” Minho looks up to see Younghyun standing beside them with Sungjin. “Practice is pretty much over so we’re heading out. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, would you ‘Sung?”

  
  Jisung, who was just walking by, looks up with a wide eyed expression. There’s a smear of grease on his upper lip from the grilled pork belly that he doesn’t seem to notice. _Cute._

 

  “Huh?”

 

  “Minho needs someone to walk him home, you can do it.” Younghyun sounds like he’s teasing Jisung in some way as he speaks, a certain lilt to his voice. Minho wonders if it’s cause he’s his older brother that he’s teasing.

 

  “Oh—Oh yeah, sure.” Jisung nods, looking kind of like a deer caught in headlights as Minho walks up to him.

 

  Minho picks at a stray string poking out of the sleeve of his hoodie, wondering if he should say something to Jisung or wait for the other boy to say something.

 

  “You have grease on your face.”

 

  Minho cringes as soon as it comes out of his mouth, but he honestly couldn’t think of anything else to say, and all the sudden it was just coming out of him. He was surprised he didn’t stutter at all with how fast he spoke. Almost as fast as the flush that spreads across Jisung’s face.

 

  “Shit—” Jisung wipes his face with his arm, barely meeting Minho’s eyes when he looks up. “Did I get it?”

 

  Minho doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods.

 

  Everyone else is busy packing up, Wonpil and Seungmin pushing the couches back to where they were before everyone showed up while Dowoon and Sunjin go around picking up stray trash—not that there is any, it amazes Minho how polite and conscientious everyone was all night. Chan packs up the cooler of drinks while Seungmin pesters Felix for the can of Cherry Cola in his hands because _“it’s too late, you’ll be up all night”._

 

“We’re off, I’m gonna bring Jeonginnie home.” Woojin announces. The youngest boy is half asleep and hanging off Woojin piggyback style, arms hanging useless around Woojin’s shoulders as he yawns, prompting Minho to feel the urge to do the same. “It was nice to meet you Minho, I’ll see you next time?”

 

  “I’ll try.” Minho smiles and waves goodbye to the two, watching them walk away with a newfound fondness when Woojin adjusts his grip on a now sleeping Jeongin.

 

  “Ready to go?”

 

  Minho looks up to see Jisung carrying one of the bands amplifiers in his arms, showing barely any strain as the box weighs down on his arms.

 

  He hums in agreement, not wanting to keep Jisung waiting any longer. They both say goodbye to everyone, even brushing past Mrs. Kim on their way out. She tells them to get home safely, and pulls Minho and Jisung both into separate hugs. Minho notices how she holds Jisung a little tighter, squeezing him once before her arms drop.

 

  “Get home safely!”

 

  After that it’s just them and the empty road.

 

  The only sound is their shoes crunching over the gravel road. Minho finds himself kicking the same rock over and over again, zig zagging all over as he follows the stone, until is rolls off the road and Minho gives up on his venture.

 

  “So you’re here for the summer?” Jisung finally speaks, eyes on the road ahead as they walk. It takes a moment for Minho to respond even though the answer is simple.

 

  “Yeah, with my aunt… You live here?”

 

  “Yep. You probably figured that Younghyun is my brother.”

 

  “You two look alike,” Is all Minho says.

 

  It could be a trick of the moonlight, but Jisung’s eyes seem to brighten when Minho says that, smile growing the tiniest bit. Minho wonders if Jisung’s idol is Younghyun.

 

  “Are you enjoying it here?”

 

  Minho thinks for a moment. He hasn’t _not_ been enjoying himself, he’s just been tired. It isn’t uncharacteristic of him to be lethargic during the summer months, and he’s just not yet used to also having so much going on. With him arriving, and having Aunt Yoo around him all the time, he’s been slowly going through an adjustment period. Realizing that it isn’t just him, the apartment and sometimes his parents anymore. Now it’s him, Aunt Yoo, sunday pancakes, and people who want to make friends with him.

 

  It doesn’t seem like too much, but it’s still an adjustment period.

 

  “It’s not bad.” Minho finally says. Jisung seems to accept his answer.

 

  They don’t say much else after that.

 

  “This is you.” Jisung announces when they get to Aunt Yoo’s house, the windows lit up in soft lamplight through the shades that are pulled down. It looks like a cozy cottage from the end of the driveway.

 

  “Thanks for walking me home.”

 

  “No problem... Sleep well Minho.”

 

  Minho feels Jisung’s eyes on him the entire time he walks to the door, lancing out of the corner of his eyes just before he walks in to see Jisung still standing at the end of the driveway. So Minho waves to let him know he’s okay before walking in.

 

  Aunt Yoo is on the couch with a book on her hand when Minho walks in, head poking out from behind the back of the couch when she hears him sliding his shoes off.

 

  “How was it? Did you eat? Should I have made dinner? Were the boys nice? Do I need to call someone’s mother?” Her questions come almost too quick for Minho to follow, and she looks a cross between worried and excited as she holds her breath.

 

  “It was fine Aunt Yoo, I had a good time.” Minho assures her, his shoulders curling in on himself as exhaustion creeps through his muscles and bones. They’d been tense for most of the afternoon, and his calf muscles are beginning to burn from walking so far today. “I’m just tired now.”

 

  “Of course you are, sorry. You should sleep now.”

 

  Aunt Yoo walks up to him, lips pressed together thoughtfully for a moment before pulling him into a warm hug.

 

  Her hugs have grown less awkward as she began to realize Minho didn’t really know what to do with them, but they’re still warm and comfortable. The only difference is the control Minho has over them. At first he didn’t really get it, and would hug Aunt Yoo long after he began to feel awkward, but now as soon as Minho loosens his own arms, Aunt Yoo will do the same. Allowing Minho to step away from the touch when he needs to.

 

  Minho stays for a bit longer than usual this time. He likes how warm it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter came out as a monster wow, i think it's almost 7k words? tbh that's not too bad, but still a lot compared to previous chapters. I hope you enjoyed it


	4. smoke screen horizon

 

  The mattress in Minho’s room is old, a slight dip in the middle from years of someone sleeping in it regularly. Aunt Yoo says the bed frame for it will be here in a few days, once Wonpil has time to bring it over. Minho doesn’t really mind it the way it is though, not once he beats all of the dust out of it, watching the particles scatter through the air through the ray of sunlight that peeks through the window shades.

 

  He spends most of his time in the house on the mattress, surrounded by the soft flannel sheet he uses as a blanket now that blankets are too hot even. with the window left open.

 

  Sometimes he’ll let his head hang upside down off the edge until he feels faint from the blood rushing to his brain, other times he’ll curl up under the sheet as he scrolls through Instagram. Spending waking hours when he’s all alone and can’t get himself to get out of bed, and late nights when he can’t fall asleep staring at his dimmed screen. Even when he’s not even interested in what it has to offer.

 

  It’s been almost three weeks since Minho arrived at the island, four days since the party, and he’s slowly falling back into old habits as he watches everyone else his age partying and making the best of their summer. Through edited pictures Minho sees random groups of friends together, ten seconds clips of boys Minho used to be friends with jumping into penthouse pools. He sees them when he breaks out of his room to search through the fridge, absentmindedly scrolling past pictures of kids he goes to school with partying as he pours himself some juice. Empty hearts and clouds of smoke filling up every frame.

  


  _Being inside won’t help, even sitting outside is better than shutting yourself in._

  


  The words rattle around Minho’s head as he does little but exist, barely pulling him out of the thick fog he’s fallen into over the past few days.

 

  Ever since he came from the party Minho has been unusually drained. As soon as he climbed into bed that night he was out like a light, and slept through most of the day after. He was barely conscious when Aunt Yoo woke him up and forced him to eat something, and even after that he fell asleep again.

 

  Aunt Yoo was worried for him, he could tell by the way she would watch him over the rims of her reading glasses when he shuffled out of his room at half past eight looking like a zombie. He settles for a bowl of cereal as lunch to calm Yoo’s nerves before she has to leave for work. At least she’ll know he ate before she leaves.

 

  “Bye Minho..!” Aunt Yoo calls out, and Minho responds with a tired grunt before the door clicks shut, and he’s alone once more.

 

  He lays curled up in a ball under his sheet, one arm wrapped around his legs that are curled up against his stomach, and the other holding up his phone as he scrolls. His hair falls like a curtain in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to move it.

 

  It’s been like this for days, Minho isn’t really sure why. But then something seems to shift all of the sudden.

 

  Minho’s thumb stills and he feels a crease appear between his eyebrows. His room is all of the sudden too stuffy to lounge around in.

 

  It seems to take him forever to sit up, to get out of the rinse and repeat of sleeping and scrolling like a robot without purpose. Watching the world through a lens from a million miles away.

 

  Minho swings his legs over the edge of the bed and holds his face in his hands for a while, raking his fingers through his hair a few times to wake himself up. Even though he’s been up for hours.

  
  


  Behind Aunt Yoo’s house, maybe ten paces through the trees down an overgrown path he comes out to the beach, which is a short stretch of soft cooled sand that leads down a gentle slope where the island curves in.

 

  One thing Minho likes about the island is how it isn’t some kind of tropical paradise. He likes how he can walk out of the house in his cuffed jeans and a thin tee shirt, but also pull one of the old oversized cardigans from the coat rack because it still gets cold out every so often. There’s something charming about how even in the summer here there are days like _this_ , where the skies are a blanket of grey that leaves the whole island desaturated and covered in a thin layer of mist.

 

  It’s not a bad kind of grey, not like the stormy dark clouds that surrounded the island when he first arrived. A warm breeze floats across the beach as he settles down in the sand, pulling his legs towards his chest and looking out over the water, which is just as grey as the sky. A cloud of thick mist floats across the water further out.

 

  A small chirrup sounds from behind him, and Minho glances over his shoulder to see Soonie at the edge of the each where the sand tapers off into a thick brush and trees. Bright green eyes glancing around as she pads out onto the sand.

 

  Soonie had showed up every few days for the past week, enough that even Aunt Yoo knew about her—and had fallen in love with her enough for Minho to catch Aunt Yoo putting out a bowl of food for her one morning.

 

  “Hi sweetie.” Minho hums, tilting his head to the side as he runs a hand over her back to the tip of her tail, watching as she flops into a patch of sand and rolls around until the orange in her fur turns almost the same color.

 

  There are wild cats all around the island, especially Aunt Yoo’s side since there aren’t as many people making noise. Soonie is the only one who has been remotely friendly. She doesn’t come around all the time, but whenever Minho leaves his window open she always seems to turn up, even if it’s just to sit on the sill and watch him for a while with her wide eyes.

 

  “You like it here don’t you,” Minho speaks in a soft voice, smiling when Soonie begins to purr and butts her head against his fingers, looking for affection. “I do too… I think.”

 

  There’s something cathartic about being able to say how he feels without having to think about what he says—cause who is a cat gonna tell?

 

  Minho looks out over the grey horizon, which he can’t even see. The sea goes out far, too far for Minho to even comprehend and then turns into a line of hazy white before it transitions into the sky. The line of the horizon completely hidden. Though the sky is filled with clouds he has to squint to see properly through the bright white.

 

  A spot of color appears in a sea of grey and Minho has to blink a few times to recognize it—a mop of blonde hair that belongs to none other than Jisung.

 

  Half a mile out Jisung is on his surfboard, legs hidden in the water as he sits up properly and waves in Minho’s direction.

 

  It takes Minho to realize that Jisung is in fact waving to him—and no, he absolutely does not turn around to make sure no one is behind him, because that would make him one of the biggest and most embarrassing losers of all time.

 

  Minho recognized him as one of the guys he saw out surfing when he first met him, he just never really thought of it past that.

 

  He wonders if Jisung can properly surf, and if the island even gets waves big enough to surf on. The water is rougher today than Minho has seen is his time here, but nothing like the movies. From the direction Jisung is headed, he must just be finishing up, seeing as the town is around the corner that way. He’s probably on his way home now, just waving to be polite.

 

  He raises his arm in a pathetic reply to Jisung’s wave, but even from this distance he can see Jisung’s face split into a wide grin before he lies back on his stomach and continues to paddle through the water until he disappears around the curve of land that leads to the rest of the island.

 

  Minho stares until his eyes begin to hurt, suddenly very lonely, even though nothing has really changed since before Jisung swam by.

 

  The faint sound of something vibrating calls his attention, and he glances down to see Soonie laying on his phone, the top half of the screen hidden by her soft stomach. He gently shoos her away so he can see more than just the red and green buttons from the incoming call—and then wishes he hadn’t.

  
  


_INCOMING CALL FROM MOM_

  
  


  Minho’s stomach turns as he reaches for the phone, knowing he can’t ignore another one of her calls. It’s been weeks since he’s talked to either of his parents, if he doesn’t answer at all they’ll be sure to get upset.

 

  He brushes the sand off the screen before accepting the call, chest feeling like a rubber band stretched far too close to snapping for comfort as he presses the screen against his ear.

 

  “Hi mom.”

 

_“Minho, I’ve called you twice.”_

 

  Not even a hello. Minho cringes when he hears his mothers disapproving tone, apologetic.

 

  “Yeah, I was busy. Sorry.” Minho says in a small voice, hearing the disapproving huff from his mothers end of the line. She doesn’t bring it up any more though.

 

_“No I need a different color—What was that sweetie?”_

 

  “I’m sorry for not picking up your calls.”

 

  _“Oh, yes._ ” His mother continues, the muffled sound of voices coming through as she yells at one of her interns probably. Even when she’s yelling, her voice has a sweet lilt to it like his own. _“Hmph, sorry Minho, we just got a huge job at my office. I’m spread paper thin.”_

 

“I know, don’t worry about it.” Minho hums, unsurprised as he takes a handful of sand and watches the grains slip through his fingers. “How’s dad?”

 

   _“Your father should be boarding his plane right now. There’s an important conference for his new deal in New York and of_ course _he didn’t listen to me when I told him to just use a video call—I swear to God Kim if you wrinkle those drapes I will—”_

 

  The call breaks into a long silence as his mother runs off to yell at someone else.

 

  Minho lets out a long sigh.

 

  It’s not his mother’s fault she’s busy. Minho’s father always would tell him that, and his mother would always tell him the same thing about his father.

 

  It always left him wondering though, whose fault _was_ it then? He came to the conclusion years ago that it he was the only one in the equation that just didn’t quite fit. His parents were just too busy, it wasn’t _their_ fault. They couldn’t be at his beck and call all the time like other parents, their jobs just didn’t allow it. Not with his father traveling every week and coming home exhausted while his mother dealt with the demands of other people weighing down on her shoulders at the same time. They’re busy people, and worked hard for everything they’ve earned. It’s why Minho is able to have such a nice life.

 

  Sometimes he wishes things were different though, just a little.

 

 _“So sorry sweetie, now what was that?”_ His mother’s gentle voice returns and Minho catches himself pulling at his lower lip with his teeth, pressing the soles of his shoes into the sand and watching them disappear.

 

  “Are you really busy?” He finally asks, knowing the answer already by the breathlessness in his mother’s voice. Distracted. She sounds far away, even though he knows she has to have her office phone right next to her.

 

 _“Just a little sweetie. Nothing I can’t handle.”_ His mother chuckles, and Minho manages a small smile in response, even though she can’t see it. _“How are things over there?”_

 

  “It’s not bad, it’s small but a good small.” Minho hums, thinking of the town by the beach, of the colorful buildings that line the main street. Of the diner Chan works at and Younghyun’s shop. Already he knows so many more people than he did in the city, so much so that when Aunt Yoo asked him to stop by Younghyun’s to grab some noodles for a quick dinner he didn’t even feel nervous walking in. The sight of Younghyun slumped on the counter and watching something on his phone was amusing to him.

 

_“You’re eating well? Taking your meds?”_

 

  “I am.” Minho’s voice trembles the slightest bit when he answers her last question.

 

  It’s a touchy subject for them both.

 

_“Have you been feeling any better?”_

 

  “Hm…” Minho hesitates. “A little. I don’t really—”

 

  There’s a faint sound of someone talking on the other line and Minho feels his heart drop a little when he hears his mother’s strained voice talking back, the familiar sound of her palm muffling the phone. She sounds upset about something.

 

  _“I’m sorry Minho I have to go. I’ll try and call again if I have time. Try and cheer up until then, your father and I—we’re stressed. I love you sweetie.”_

 

  Minho doesn’t even manage to say goodbye himself before the line in beeping, meaning his mother has hung up.

 

  “Love you too…” Minho says in a small voice, letting his hand holding the phone fall into his lap and staring at the blank screen until it dims and finally turns off.

 

  This is why he doesn’t answer his parents calls. Not because he can’t handle them, he just hates the way he feels after they’re over. Like nothing even happened. His mother is already onto the next thing she has to do and where is he?

 

  His arms feel like they’ve been filled with lead suddenly, barely managing to make his fingers twitch when Soonie comes up and rubs against his wrist.

 

  She seems to sense Minho’s current emotions, and hops up into his lap to curl up. Her purrs are a pleasant vibration, and she creates a spot of warmth on his stomach. The spray of the water hitting the rocks far off to his right leaves the air cold and a chill over Minho’s skin.

 

  “It’s okay.”

 

  Minho doesn’t know if he says it to comfort Soonie or himself. His voice breaks a little, he tries to ignore it.

 

  _Cheer up._ How is he supposed to do that when he feels so blegh? His head feels like it’s filled with clouds, all misty. He wishes it was as easy as that, wishes he could just cheer up, but he doesn’t even know what he needs to cheer up from.

 

  “Hey, Minho.”

 

  Minho looks up to see Jisung on the end of the beach jogging over, hair still damp from being in the water.

 

  For a moment Minho is surprised, then confused.

 

  Jisung has changed out of his rash guard, the black material traded in for a pair of faded denim shorts and an oversized shirt that at first glance looks white, but as Jisung gets closer Minho can see that it’s really just a pale bluish grey.

 

  He must have stopped at home before coming here, but why?

 

  Minho doesn’t get too much time to think about it before Jisung reaches him, and plops down into the sand beside him with a _thwump_. The action sends Soonie running off into the brush.

 

  “Oh shit—I’m sorry.”

 

  Minho feels a slight tug in his heart when he sees the worry in the other boys eyes. Jisung has his lower lip caught under his teeth as if he’s scared Minho will be upset with him for scaring her off.

 

  “I just wanted to say hello, I didn’t realize—”

 

  “Don’t worry, she’s just shy.” Minho looks over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of fluffy orange fur but there’s nothing.

 

  “Sounds familiar.”

 

  Minho’s head snaps back to look at Jisung for a second before he averts his eyes. He stares at the sand in front of him as he pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

 

  “You think I’m shy?” He asks in a small voice, glancing over to see that Jisung is watching him with a small smile. An inviting air surrounds him.

 

  Jisung’s hair and shirt are the only points of color now besides the dark blue of Minho’s cardigan; it makes it hard to look away from him.

 

  “Just a little bit,” Jisung says, breaking out into a wide grin.

 

 Minho can see now that Jisung is closer that his eyes are a clear but warm brown color, much like dark chocolate. Some of his eyelashes are still clumped together from the water—Minho wonders what Jisung was rushing for that made him not bother properly drying himself. His hair is beginning to dry into loose waves from the salt caught in the blonde strands, like he combed it but was rushed when doing so.

 

  “What’re you doing out here all alone?”

 

  “Just… Just looking, I guess.” Minho shrugs after taking a moment to think, tilting his head and looking back at the ocean where the waves grow more rough further out.

 

  Strangely he doesn’t mind Jisung’s presence, doesn’t feel the usual prickles of discomfort at the base of his spine like he usually does when he gets anxious. Now, he’s perfectly okay with watching the waves lap at the shore in a gentle rhythm while Jisung sits next to him. Neither of them saying anything.

 

  It’s nice.

 

  There’s still something weighing down on Minho’s heart though from the call though, like a balloon being inflated in his chest slowly taking up room. He grips a handful of his sleeve in his fist, trying to keep his breathing even as the pressure becomes stifling.

 

  “Hey.” Jisung’s voice cuts through the faint buzz that had begun in Minho’s head, which retreats at the sound of Jisung’s voice..

 

  Minho looks up at Jisung and sees the boy smiling at him, eyes holding an emotion Minho can’t seem to place a name to as he stands up and brushes off his jeans and hands, then holds one out for Minho.

 

  “I wanna show you something. C’mere.”

 

  Minho glances between Jisung and his hand once. He’s surprised when he doesn’t feel any hesitation towards the action, fitting his hands into Jisung’s. His eyes widen when Jisung takes both of his hands and whisks him out of the sand with barely any trouble, dragging him up and almost right into the other boy.

 

  For a moment they’re close, barely a foot between them. It’s then that Minho realizes that he’s a good few centimeters taller than Jisung when he has to look down to meet his eyes. He hadn’t been able to tell before. Jisung must be strong. Minho is pretty sure he’s stronger, he might even be able to carry Jisung if—

 

  Minho clears his throat and takes a quick step back, tugging the thick fabric of the cardigan from where it had begun to slip down his shoulder. The moment had lasted barely more than a second, but it leaves Minho with a vague feeling of whiplash, vertigo maybe.

 

  Jisung seems to hesitate for a moment, looks like he want to say something to Minho, but decides against it.

 

  The boy motions for Minho to follow him, walking down towards the shore.

 

  Jisung’s bare feet leave imprints, small puddles filling up the indents in the sand until Jisung reaches the place where the edge of the water pools. The waves are strangely gentle compared to further out, and in the water in the shallow curve of the island is closer to still than Minho would have thought possible for the ocean. There’s none of the rolling waves like on the main beach, the ones that hit the shores with purpose.

 

  Jisung walks right out into the water, stopping when the water reaches right below his knees maybe seven meters out.

 

  Minho watches with interest from the shore as Jisung peers into the water for a moment before reaching down for something in the water. He does the same thing a few more times, and Minho realizes after the fourth or fifth time that Jisung is collecting rocks.

 

   _Strange_. Minho thinks as he watches Jisung, arms crossed over his chest loosely. He would ask what Jisung is planning, but something about the endearing gleam of excitement in his eyes keeps Minho from saying anything.

 

  It takes a few minutes, but Jisung returns to shore with a handful of stones, all the same general makeup. Smooth and flat.

 

  “I used to do this a lot when I was younger when I had a lot of stuff on my mind,” Jisung says once he drops all of the rocks in the sand between them. There’s maybe ten to the pile. Minho picks one up and looks at it, then back up at Jisung, wondering why he gathered a bunch of rocks at all.

 

  Jisung giggles and takes the rock from Minho with a gentle hand, turning to look out at the water. “Whenever I start to think too much, it helps.”

 

  Minho notices how Jisung seems to be growing a bit more shy as he speaks. It makes Minho a little braver, how he wants to understand Jisung.

 

   He watches with interest as Jisung steps up to the shoreline and winds his arm back, like a pitcher would when throwing a ball, except his arm doesn’t go up. It’s more like Jisung is trying to throw a Frisbee really, but all the sudden his arm snaps forwards and Minho watches as a trail of ripples appear in the water as the stone skips over the surface.

 

  Minho counts three times before the stone sips into the water and sinks. He’s impressed.

 

  “Woah…” His awe must show as he looks between the water and Jisung,

 

  Jisung’s glances over at Minho and does a double take. He has a soft smile on his face as he chuckles, “What? Haven’t you skipped stones before?”

 

  The phrase clicks somewhere in Minho’s head, and he thinks he vaguely remembers a movie where some characters skipped stones together. He had been interested at the time, but there aren’t many lakes round where he lives, so he had never really been able to figure out what exactly it was like. He’s gone to Han River once or twice, but he never really thought about doing it there.

 

  Minho’s cheeks flush, and he shakes his head. No, he hasn’t.

 

  “I’ll just have to teach you then.” Jisung says with a tone of finality that Minho doesn’t think he could argue with even if he had wanted to. The smile is still there, ever so warm and inviting, even though they’re still as good as strangers.

 

  “Okay.” Is all Minho can think to say.

 

  Jisung spends the better part of the next twenty minutes trying—keyword: trying—to teach Minho how to skip a stone on the water.

 

  “So,” Jisung starts, throwing another stone. “Are you gonna go to the battle of the bands?”

 

  Minho rolls one from hand to hand thoughtfully, looking down at the chip down the middle and running his thumb over the fissure. “Younghyun’s band is playing right?”

 

   He throws the stone, it sinks to the bottom.

 

  “Mhm,” Jisung’s eyebrows are knit together, and he seems tense for a moment to Minho as he throws a stone, _hard_. It hits the surface with a thunk as the water swallows it up, and Minho remembers what Jisung said,

 

   _I used to do this a lot when I was younger when I had a lot of stuff on my mind._

 

Minho wonders what Jisung is thinking of right one that’s able to create that wrinkle between his eyebrows. If they weren’t practically strangers, Minho might've been tempted to hug the boy in an attempt to comfort him. His fingers twitch around the stone in his hand, almost imperceptibly.

 

  “I get it…”

 

  “I might.” Is all Minho says, before throwing the stone and watching is soar before hitting the water. It doesn’t skip, the waves roll over the area it disappeared like it never ever existed in the first place.

 

  Jisung snorts a little beside him. “That’s not how you do it silly, here I’ll show you.”

 

  Each time Minho’s arm feels awkward as it did the first, and he tries to tell Jisung _‘it’s okay, I don’t need to learn’_ but Jisung will pout and plead with him _‘just one more!’_ and Minho finds himself unable to argue as he picks up yet another stone. Just to watch it hit the water with a splash and sink to the bottom.

 

  “C’mon Minho, just one more?” Jisung pleads, holding another stone out to him with wide pleading eyes. Minho has been ready to give up, content to step back and watch Jisung instead if the boy insists on continuing.

 

  Jisung’s lower lip juts out. _“Please?”_

 

  There’s only three left in the pile.

 

  “Here, your arm shouldn’t go up, it’s gotta be flat. You’re spinning the stone, not chucking it.” With anyone else it would have sounded condescending or patronizing, but Jisung is a good teacher. His voice is gentle and he’s still as patient as he was when Minho tossed the first rock at what was basically a forty five degree angle right into the water.

 

  Minho feels a small jolt, like an electric shock running up his arm when Jisung places his hand under Minho’s elbow and tilts it into the right position. He pulls Minho’s arm back, putting him through the motion of throwing slowly and making small comments as he goes.

 

  “Then… Just follow through with it.” Jisung finishes, taking a step back. Minho can still feel the faint warmth of his touch on his arm.

 

  Jisung picks up one of the two remaining stones and tosses it, sending it skipping four times over the water with practiced ease.

 

  Minho takes a deep breath and winds his arm back, lips pressing together as he tries to do exactly as Jisung had shown him. Except right before he actually throws the rock, his eyes glance upwards and he sees Jisung watching him.

 

  Minho’s arm jerks and the stone flies too far out, hitting the surface of the water with a small splash. Sending a singular ripple out over the water. A hot wave of disappointment and embarrassment rolls over Minho, and he can feel his ears burning red.

 

  “That’s okay, we still have one more.”

 

  Jisung stands beside Minho, unperturbed by Minho’s lack of skill.

 

  Minho wonders what allows the boy to be so smiley. It looks so easy.

 

  “Minho!”

 

  The two boys both startle, and Minho turns around to see Aunt Yoo standing at the edge of the woods, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun—which is shining brightly as the clouds slowly lose their opaqueness.

 

  She looks like she just got home from work, hair still up in a high bun with wisps of hair curling around her features. She’s dressed in a looser pencil skirt and a collared shirt under an old burgundy sweater, one Minho recognizes as the one with frayed holes around the collar and hem.

 

  Minho lifts a hand in a small wave.

 

  “Hi Jisung!” Yoo grins and waves, and Minho glances over to see Jisung waving back with a smile of his own, not that he ever seemed to have stopped.

 

  “Hey Auntie!”

 

  Minho isn’t even surprised, not after every other interaction he’s had on the island; both Chan Felix and Younghyun knowing Aunt Yoo.

 

  “Sorry boys, I need to steal Minho away for dinnertime.”

 

  Minho is surprised for a moment, and looks over at Jisung to see the boy looking at the black watch he has on his left wrist. He looks less surprised than Minoh, but still politely shocked.

 

  “Wow it’s almost seven,” Jisung comments, eyebrows rising. “Sorry Auntie, I didn’t mean to keep him.”

 

  “Hm, you watch yourself. You’ll ruin his innocence.”

 

  Minho sputters and stares at Aunt Yoo with an expression of shocked horror when he hears her, seeing the shit eating grin on her face and suddenly very scared of future teasing from her. He always heard of his schoolmates parents and family members embarrassing them, but this—this was a totally new experience for Minho.

 

  Jisung is laughing though, and he struggles to keep a straight face on as he puts a hand over his heart. “I swear I would never.”

 

  “Oh my god.” Minho wants to hide his face, hearing both Aunt Yoo and Jisung both laughing on both sides of him. _“Oh my god.”_

 

“It was nice seeing you Minho, I really hope you come to the battle. We’d love to have you.” Jisung smiles so bright, and Minho wonders if being outside all day is causing the distant floating feeling in his head as Jisung waves goodbye. “Take care Auntie!”

 

  Minho looks at Aunt Yoo, still standing at the edge of the woods. Her lips are turned up at the corners in a small smile, wrapping an arm around Minho’s slumped shoulders when he finally reaches her.

 

  “You have something on your cheek.” Aunt Yoo smiles, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes showing.

 

  Minho presses a hand to his cheek and just feels heat, then realizes she’s pointing out his blush. Yoo lets out a loud but familiar laugh when she sees his unimpressed pout.

 

  They walk through the short stretch of woods until they reach the house in a comfortable silence. Minho’s stomach rumbles when he smells some kind of stew, and sees the two bowls already set at the table through the window. He hadn’t realized how hungry he really was.

 

  “Did you have fun today?” Yoo asks, her voice gentle, not so playful as it had been before but still lighthearted. Hopeful.

 

  Minho looks back at the path out to the beach, thinking for a moment before nodding with some hesitation. “Yeah, I think I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie I'm not ecstatic about how this chapter turned out, but at the same time I feel like it turned out perfectly, which is a really weird thing to say. I feel like it was very plain, but also that's almost what I set out to do when I started writing it, so I have mixed feelings. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


	5. basics of simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> mentions of a past panic attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back to i dont know what im doing. i just wanna thank ver for listening to me day in and day out run ideas past her for this fic lol. 
> 
> i had fun writing this chapter because minho finally gets to show some more of his real personality and i also wrote it because my rice krispie bones felt like pushing off the fun stuff one more chapter cause im EVIL
> 
> okay i wont keep you any longer pls enjoy

  Ever since Minho spent the day with Jisung at the beach he’s been feeling better. Whether it’s because he took the time to finally get out of bed and take a shower, or if it was interacting with Jisung himself he’s not sure. He’s noticed the difference though.

 

  His head isn’t so foggy anymore, and his sleeping schedule has finally found a happy medium so he’s not waking up before the crack of dawn or around lunch time. He’s even started helping Aunt Yoo out with breakfast when he can. Today, he’s alone in the house again, but only for a short while. Aunt Yoo had left early in the morning to do some laundry, because running water was generally only available in the bathroom and kitchen.

 

  It was strange because since Minho had arrived Aunt Yoo mostly did her laundry by hand, and left it out to dry on the clothesline that ran through her backyard. Maybe she just felt like going into town and making use of the laundromat was just a better way to pass the time today.

 

  Minho himself didn’t have much to do, as Hyunjin was supposed to be at a family function for the next few days, and he wasn’t comfortable enough around the boys from the island to go out looking for one of them to hang out with.

 

  Minho’s eyes darted over the screen of his laptop, teeth worrying at his lower lip as he slid his finger across the touch pad and tapped it, waiting for the video to load. The connection was horrendous out here, but it was enough for the video to load.

 

  He had quit dancing months ago, when the motivation to go to practice had begun to dwindle and he no longer felt the rush of satisfaction that came when he finally perfected a piece of choreography. It became a chore to find his dancing shoes, and he hated the feeling of being all sweaty and gross when he came home, because all the sudden he didn’t have the energy to shower after practice anymore. It was one of his lower points for sure.

 

  Dance had always been a passion of Minho’s since he was younger, and his parents had allowed him to pursue it as long as his grades didn’t slip in the process—something Minho never allowed.

 

  The happiness it sparked in Minho just seemed to fizzle out suddenly, and Minho decided it would be best for everyone if he left.

 

  It broke his heart to tell his instructor that he wouldn’t be joining them anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the expressions on the classes faces when they found out that he had quit. It had broken his heart, but even that pain was too far away to really sting.

 

  Minho releases a drawn out sigh, curling his toes away from the chill in the morning air that sneaks past his quilt.

 

  Out of curiosity, he had done some research on the Battle of the Bands everyone kept mentioning to him. A few google searches and Minho was able to find that it wasn’t really a Battle of the Bands and more of a giant festival on the beach of the mainland, like, _giant_ . There would be dance teams performing as well as bands throughout the day, and a _ton_ of food by the looks of it. It looks like it’ll be a lot of fun, but the idea of that many people is enough to make Minho feel a little antsy.

 

  “Minho! Can you come out here and help me with the laundry?” Aunt Yoo calls out, causing Minho to nearly jump out of his skin. He hadn’t heard her walk inside.

 

  “Yeah, one second.” Minho tilts the screen of his laptop down and slides his legs out from under the quilt on his bed.

 

  The island has finally reached summer officially, so most of the windows in the house have been left open to let in the breeze. Everything smells like beach and sea salt, and the unmarked candles Yoo has places around the house that make everything a little bit softer. They even make a nice crackling sound when they burn.

 

  Minho pulls on his green hoodie before he leaves his room. He’s caught Aunt Yoo looking at him from time to time when he wears the hoodie even when it’s almost twenty six degrees outside. She doesn’t say anything about it though, and Minho is grateful for it.

 

  He’s not sure if he’s ready to have a heart to heart with Yoo about all his anxious quirks.

 

  “Aunt Yoo?” Minho looks around the front room, no sign of her.

 

  The front doors creak as Minho slides them open, arms crossed over his chest as he looks around the front yard. Aunt Yoo’s car sits parked halfway on the lawn and halfway on the gravel driveway with the trunk wide open, but there’s still no sign of Aunt Yoo anywhere.

 

  Minho is starting to sweat under the sun beating through the trees. It's the hottest it's been since he arrived right now.

 

 “Yoo?” Minho calls out, leaning forwards and trying to see if Aunt Yoo is around the house for some reason. “C’mon you’re freaking me out…”

 

  _“Boo!”_

 

  Minho screams, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing when his fingernails dig through the fabric of his sweater and into his arms.

 

  “Goddamnit Hyunjin!” Minho yells, glaring at his friend. “What the fu— _Hyunjin?_ ”

 

  “Surprise _bitch_!” Hyunjin yells and drags Minho into a hug, which is so not okay in the kind of weather they’re standing in. Hyunjin's body swallows up Minho's slimmer one, arms crushing him in a comfortable embrace. “Jeez you’re so skinny now.”

 

  “Oh shut up,” Minho says, but he’s grinning because he hasn’t seen his best friend in almost a year and it’s so good to be able to actually see Hyunjin’s mole under his eye, where it’s usually hidden by bad video quality. “How the fuck did you get here?”

 

  “Hey! Language boys.” Minho looks over to see Aunt Yoo leaning against her car, a gentle smile on her face.

 

  “ _You_ were laundry?” Minho smacks Hyunjin on the shoulder, his friend grunting and making a dramatic scene when Minho had barely touched him.

 

  “Yep, you can thank me later.” Aunt Yoo grins and ruffles Minho’s hair affectionately. “Now, go get changed and show him around. I have a big dinner to make for tonight.”

 

  Minho takes Hyunjin into the house, unsure of what he wants to tell him about first. He didn’t expect to have so much to say to his friend, and he hasn’t had any time to prepare what he wanted to say in the first place. So he settles on just showing him his room as a starting point.

 

  “Cool, no frame.” Hyunjin says as he rolls onto Minho’s bed, settling on his stomach and propping his head up on the heel of his palm.

 

  “How long are you staying?” Minho asks as he pulls his hoodie off. Hyunjin has his other hand covering his eyes as Minho gets changed, even though neither of them really care.

 

  “Two days, my mom felt too bad letting me stay longer. She’s setting it up with my cousin for me to stay like a week sometime later in the summer though.”

 

  Minho rifles through his clothes quickly, pulling on a pair of shorts his mother had bought him before he left. With Hyunjin here he doesn’t think he’ll need his hoodie, he’s come to learn that when he hangs out with Hyunjin he’ll never be the center of attention. It wasn’t even that Minho was unconfident in his looks, he could objectively say he was not that bad thanks to his mother's good genes and his fathers nose. There was just something about Hyunjin that demanded attention, whatever the boy happened to be doing at the moment.

 

  Somehow Aunt Yoo’s wardrobe had mixed in with Minho’s on a laundry day a few weeks ago, so Minho finds himself pulling on a tee shirt for a musical from almost twenty years ago, the once vibrant colors faded.

 

  “Your clothes are always so big, they make you look so small.”

 

  Minho rolls his eyes and tosses his shoe at Hyunjin, poorly aimed so it flies almost three feet over Hyunjin’s head and hits the wall with a loud thump.

 

  He knows Hyunjin isn’t saying it in a rude way, he can see it in his friend’s eyes that Hyunjin is just worried for him like usual. Because Hyunjin is always worried about Minho, always for a different reason. Minho knows that with some effort he could toss Hyunjin over his shoulder though. 

 

  “Now give me my shoe back, whore.”

 

  They say goodbye to Aunt Yoo, who looks all too happy to get them out and about. She hugs them both before they go, and Hyunjin snickers when she ruffles Minho’s hair. He pretends to scowl, but the affectionate touch creates a pleasant warmth in his chest that follows him out of the house.

 

  “So, you gonna show me around now that you’re basically a townie?” Hyunjin asks as he drags Minho faster down the road with their linked arms, forcing him into a lazy skip as they kick up the gravel road. 

 

  “I’ll try my best, don’t get your hopes up though,” Minho laughs along with Hyunjin, slipping out of Hyunjin’s grasp and jogging down the road until he’s out of reach.

 

  Of course that only prompts Hyunjin to chase after him though.

 

  They turn the corner that leads them to the beginning of town, and Minho finds himself pulling back again. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to miss the way Minho curves his shoulders in on himself. He throws his arm around Minho’s shoulder again as they walk, pointing at random buildings and asking what they are. Minho had told Hyunjin he hadn't been out much, but Hyunjin seems to enjoy the lackluster tour anyways. Minho shows him the front of Younghyun's store—closed thankfully—when they walk past, and tells Hyunjin that they can have breakfast at Chan's diner if they wake up early enough the next day.

 

  “Well here’s a bunch of stores I’ve never been into… And some houses, some sand. That’s where Felix's body slammed the ground. And that’s more sand.”

 

  “Cool.”

 

  Minho finds himself smiling in an almost bashful way at Hyunjin’s dorkiness. His naturally bubbly personality filling up the spaces Minho lacks easily, while leaving enough room for Minho to branch out when he finds his stride. It’s something he’s always appreciated about his friend, he takes up space but never too much.

 

  He’s just happy to have him around again, having forgotten how Hyunjin always brings a certain calming aura with him, even when he's bursting with energy.

 

  The day they met was both bitter and happy for Minho to remember. Happy because he had met Hyunjin, bitter because of the circumstances that brought them together.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Minho had somehow convinced his parents—honestly it wasn’t that hard—to let him take a train to Incheon for a dance competition with his team. His parents had always been supportive of him getting out of the house, so it hadn’t taken too long for his father to make that noncommittal grunt that always meant _‘whatever, just do it’_.

 

  Excitement had plagued him the week leading up to the workshop, but underneath it all there had been a hint of anxiety, one he had tried to ignore. Even as he laughed and joked with his teammates the whole way there he could feel it. There was something breathing down his back, he just wasn’t sure what.

 

  It didn’t hit him until an hour into the trip, when all the sudden he couldn’t breathe. The discomfort of so many bodies around him becoming suffocating. He tore himself away from the group, panicked breaths the only thing he could hear as he stumbled out of the crowd, trying to find somewhere he could be alone. He needed space to breathe.

 

  Minho had somehow found himself outside of the building the competition was held in, opening the drawstring bag he had brought with him and searching for the pack of cigarettes he had bought just the day before on a hunch he would need them. His head was spinning from all the twists and turns it had taken for him to get there, hands trembling as he flipped the box open and pulled his lighter out. His hand was almost shaking too badly to get a proper light. 

 

  Usually a few drags of a cigarette would be enough to calm him down, but all it seemed to do then was agitate Minho's mind further. The smoke taking up space in his lungs, preventing air from getting in. Wrong fucking decision, his lungs seemed to be screaming at him as he choked on smoke, cigarette falling to the ground.

 

  “Whoops, wrong door—Hey are you okay?”

 

  Minho had sat on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest as he choked and gasped. He wouldn’t realize until later that the searing pain he had felt was from his cigarette falling and leaving an ugly burn on his wrist.

 

  “Hey, take deep breaths, do you know what’s happening?”

 

  Minho looked up to see a—then unfamiliar—boy, with pretty brown eyes staring at him with nothing but concern and a want to help a stranger. His voice gentle as his hands hovered over Minho’s shoulders.

 

  “I—I can’t—Can’t breathe.” Minho choked out, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in his fist. His heart was pounding at an unsteady rate.

 

  “Yes you can,” The boys voice remained the same gentle lilt as he spoke, “here, I’m gonna take your hand, okay? Try and breathe with me.”

 

  The boy pressed Minho’s free hand over his own chest, where Minho could feel his steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed. His other hand acting as a solid weight on Minho’s shoulder.

 

  He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually Minho’s breathing began to match up with the boys, no longer catching in his throat as he sucked down air like a dying man.

 

  The boy had helped Minho to the cafeteria when he felt strong enough to, keeping his hand on Minho’s shoulder as they walked. He was just sitting down after grabbing Minho a water bottle when he spoke. “You were having a panic attack, my mom has them sometimes. It’s okay though.” 

 

  “I’ve never—” Minho stared at the cap in his hands, eyes flickering down to the ugly burn on his wrist, dusted with ash from the cigarette. He would need to disinfect it, probably get it bandaged. There was no way it wouldn’t scar.

 

   "I'll get a bandage for that," The boy said, standing up to run off once more. Minho had stopped him though, grabbing his wrist to keep him from disappearing into the crowd again.

 

   "What's your name?"

 

   "Oh, I'm Hwang Hyunjin." 

 

   "Lee Minho. Thank you for helping me Hyunjin."

 

   "Don't worry about it, now we should really rinse that out so it won't get infected."

 

   They spent the rest of the day together, Hyunjin mingling with Minho's dance team easily, but always coming back to Minho. He ever stood in the crowd and cheered when Minho's team performed later that day, giving Minho his phone number to stay in touch when his father turned up in the crowd to tell him it was time to go.

 

   Minho had sat in the back of the train that day, an awestruck ghost of a smile on his face as Hyunjin sent him pictures of puppies and gave him advice for if he ever found himself having a panic attack again. Perfectly okay with Minho's one text for every ten Hyunjin would send him.

 

HYUNJINNN 19:36

   ive never had a friend who danced properly before!!

   you have to tell me about your team

   i can come to your next performance !!!!!!!

   UAH THAT WOULD BE SO COOL WOULDNT IT

 

   Minho had never had a friend before then. 

  


 

 

 

  Minho looks down at the raised scar tissue on his wrist, lips twitching down into a frown for a moment. But then Hyunjin is encasing Minho’s wrist in his hand, pointing at something in the distance and tugging gently, bringing Minho back to the present. Hyunjin had always been good at that

 

  “What did you say?”

 

  “I said there are people surfing down there!” Hyunjin says again, breaking out his puppy dog eyes as he tugs on Minho’s arm. “Let’s go say hi, can we please Minho?”

 

  Minho rolls his eyes, pretending to think about it for a moment. Though he and Hyunjin both know that no one could never fight Hyunjin’s puppy dog eyes.

 

  “Fine.”

 

  “Yes, c’mon!” Hyunjin fits his hand into Minho’s, both to keep Minho from trailing behind and because Hyunjin must know the thought of talking to strangers for Minho is enough to make him more than a little nervous.

 

  Minho is nervous for a moment, telltale shiver of anxiety creeping up his spine. Until they get closer to the beach and Minho finds that he recognizes who Hyunjin had spotted.

 

  “Minho!” Felix yells with a bright smile from the edge of the water, waving with what seems to be his entire body as he tries not to drop the body board he has tucked under his other arm. Changbin and Jisung stand a few feet away from him, looking like they’re in a deep conversation over shells—or something like that.

 

  “Hey Felix, hey guys.” Minho waves, voice softer than it had been a few moments before. Hyunjin notices and dutifully squeezes Minho's hand, reminding Minho that he's here for him.

 

  “Minho, did you come to surf finally?” Changbin asks, and Minho looks over to see that Changbin is, strangely, wearing a pair of pastel pink swim shorts with his pitch black rash guard and baseball hat. Minho would think with the all black outfit Changbin had been wearing at the party his swimsuit would be a bit more… fitting to his personality. Though Changbin had proven that he was pretty goofy when he wanted to be, so who is Minho to judge?

 

  “Oh no, I’m showing my friend Hyunjinnie around right now. He was the one who video chatted with you guys the other night.” Minho turns to introduce Hyunjin, lips pressing into a fine line when he looks over at his friend and sees a familiar glint in his eye. 

 

  “Nice to properly meet you, you said your name was Changbin?” Hyunjin asks, releasing Minho’s hand and holding it out for Changbin to shake.

 

  The shorter boy looks shocked for a moment, and Minho isn’t surprised, seeing as Hyunjin has his _best_ smile on. The one where one side is higher than the other, so it looks just innocently coy enough to be effortless. 

 

   Fucking flirt.

 

  Jisung comes jogging up the curve of the beach then, and Minho suddenly wishes he had chosen to wear his hoodie. Hyunjin had _warned_ him earlier that he looked too skinny. Jisung was probably going to think he was a skeleton or something. Not to mention the shirt he was wearing almost dwarfed him what had he been thinking—  

 

  “Minho! Who’s your, friend.” Jisung is grinning, one eye squinting as the sun shines down on him. It paints his hair a pretty golden color, and Minho notices that Jisung’s roots are beginning to show under the blonde.

 

  Minho is speechless for a moment as he stares, Hyunjin dutifully notices.

 

    _Again? Jeez, if he didn't think you were a creep before he sure does now._

 

  “Hwang Hyunjin, also known as Minho’s best friend in the _whole_ world.” Hyunjin butts in for him, and if Minho didn’t know better he would think that Jisung’s expression soured a bit when Hyunjin stepped forwards. Minho knew it had to be a trick of the light though, because no one ever looked at Hyunjin when he had on his charismatic smile and _didn't_ like him. Like a politician telling the truth, or coleslaw tasting good, it just didn't happen.

 

  For some reason Minho feels a bit squirmish seeing Hyunjin smile at Jisung that way. The feeling of his stomach turning makes him avert his eyes.

 

  Jisung shakes Hyunjin’s hand, but he’s looking at Minho while he speaks. “So, is your friend staying for a while?”

 

  “Just a few days, this time,” Minho says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the sand, pushing the toe of his shoe into the small dunes. 

 

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be visiting a few more times before summer ends.” Hyunjin says, lazy grin spreading over his handsome features, wrapping his arm around Minho's shoulders again. "Gotta make sure this dork is doing okay without me."

 

  Minho is grateful for the familiar gesture. Jisung’s eyes on him make him feel small, even though Minho knows he’s taller than him. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so shy all of the sudden. He’s not anxious, he knows he isn’t. But here he is with his ears feeling hot, and he can’t seem to meet Jisung’s eyes. So he looks anywhere but.

 

  “That’s nice,” Changbin says, looking like he’s about to say something else, but then Felix clears his throat and taps his fingers on his board a few times. “Ah, well we were just about to go and catch the afternoon tide before we miss it, so I guess we should be going.”

 

  “Lovely to meet you Hyunjin.” Felix says, voice sounding unnaturally flat as he grabs Changbin’s arm and drags him down the beach. Changbin stumbles over his feet a few times before regaining his balance, looking over his shoulder in their direction.

 

  Hyunjin giggles and waves at the boys as they go, and Minho thinks he sees Changbin’s neck flush a bright red while Felix speeds up his pace.

 

  “Well… It was nice seeing you Minho.” Jisung gathers up his surfboard slowly.

 

   "You too Jisungie." Minho waves, and Jisung’s lips quirk up into a small smile, but only for a moment.

 

   “Hyunjin.” Jisung tips his head into a slight nod in Hyunjin's direction before going off to follow Felix and Changbin, who are both knee deep in the surf. Changbin trips over his own surfboard where it floats in front of him, sending him into the water unceremoniously.

 

  Something about the goodbye doesn’t sit right with Minho. He watches Jisung drag his feet through the sand, Minho's lips forming a slight frown as Jisung climbs onto his body board with ease and paddles out to meet Felix and Changbin, who had recovered from his fall but looks embarrassed, and soaking wet. 

 

  “They seemed nice.” Hyunjin finally says, and Minho rolls his eyes.

 

  “Just cause you were having a grand ol’ time flirting.” He shoves Hyunjin halfheartedly, grin disappearing as Hyunjin’s eyes flash mischievously. “Hwang Hyunjin don’t you dare—”

 

  Minho shrieks as Hyunjin runs at him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him into his arms. He wrestles Minho over his shoulder and starts walking towards the shore, where Minho can hear the water lapping at the sand.

 

  Minho gasps through giggles as Hyunjin digs his fingers into his sides, tickling him mercilessly.

 

  “I’m sorry! _I’m sorry!_ ” Laughter rolls out of Minho in waves, so much that his stomach begins to hurt.

 

  In the end it’s enough for Hyunjin to release him before he decides to dunk Minho into the ocean.

 

  The two of them walk the length of the beach, laughing and joking around by the edge of the water until the sky begins to switch from blue to a soft orange color. Minho’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and after a split second of dread Minho opens it to see that it’s just Aunt Yoo telling the two of them that dinner will be ready soon.

 

  They spend the walk home the same way, giggling over almost nothing just because it’s nice, and Minho doesn’t remember the last time his face has felt sore from smiling so much.

 

  He missed hanging out with Hyunjin.

 

  Dinner consist of Hyunjin and Aunt Yoo getting along famously, and Minho being completely content to watch the two of them talk and embarrass him over dumplings and grilled beef.

 

  Hyunjin disappears off to the bathroom halfway through the meal, and Minho takes the time to thank his Aunt.

 

  “Oh sweetie, it was nothing really.” Yoo smiles, placing her hand over Minho’s and squeezing gently. “I’m just glad to see you having a good time. I know it’s been a little hard.”

 

  Minho doesn’t say anything, hesitating for a moment before standing up and hugging Yoo.

 

  There’s a few seconds of shocked silence from Aunt Yoo before she wraps her arms around Minho. It’s the first time that Minho has hugged her on his own accord, without her initiating it. Even he feels a bit shocked by his actions, but he’s starting to understand why people seem to hug others so much now. Just earlier today he had hugged Hyunjin between Aunt Yoo’s house and the town, pretty sure that Hyunjin had been shocked as well. In all the time they had been friends Minho had never been one who liked touching. Even if he was okay with Hyunjin doing it, because that was just a part of Hyunjin’s personality.

 

  “Thank you.” Minho whispers again as he pulls away and sits down again.

 

  Hyunjin returns from the bathroom before Aunt Yoo responds.

 

  After dinner, Minho forces Hyunjin to let him sleep on the floor.

 

  Minho tosses an extra blanket onto the bed, noticing how Hyunjin shivers even in his fleece pajama pants and hoodie. It seems like Minho is becoming more accustomed to the climate, if only a little bit.

 

  “So it’s like a festival,” Hyunjin says curiously, quilt wrapped around his shoulders as he turns over the speckled stone Minho keeps on his window sill.

 

  “Something like that, there’s a band playing there. Jisung’s brother is in it.”

 

  Hyunjin hums. Something about the tone makes Minho think his friend has something to say, but in the end stays silent.

 

  “Do you think Changbin would give me his number?” Hyunjin asks suddenly, laughing as Minho whacks him with a pillow. “Sorry, sorry. I’m joking.”

 

  “No you’re not.” Minho rolls his eyes, picking up the stone from where Hyunjin dropped it onto the mattress and returning it to its place on the window sill gently. “I think I might go.”

 

  Hyunjin yawns, stretching his arms high over his head. His spine pops in a few places. “It sounds fun. If you feel confident enough, I would say go for it.”

 

  Minho picks at his thumb nail for a while, head crammed full of thoughts but somehow empty at the same time. If such a thing was possible. He thinks he’ll go to the festival, he agrees with Hyunjin that it would probably be fun, but would he be able to handle it is the question.

 

  “I think—” Minho glances over to find Hyunjin fast asleep, nothing but a lump of quilts that rises and falls in the moonlight as he snores lightly. Minho snorts and adjust the quilt so it covers Hyunjin’s left foot, which had popped out when the boy lay down.

 

  “I love you Hyunjinnie.” Minho sighs, leaning back against the wall with a tired smile on his face.

 

  He looks out the window, tilting his head as he watches the moon reflect on the ocean through the trees. The stone sits on his window sill, almost glowing in the pale light. Minho barely even remembered slipping it into his pocket while he was saying goodbye to Jisung, but it had been there, and Minho couldn’t bring himself to toss it away for some reason.

 

  Minho looks away from the stone, and he watches the leaves cast shadows over his closet door.

 

  When Hyunjin had arrived that morning Minho had shoved his pack and his meds in there, after realizing he had left them out sometime during the week. Even if Hyunjin knows about both, it’s just something Minho would rather not talk about. Not when he feels like he’s doing better.

 

  Come to think of it, Minho doesn’t really remember taking his pill that morning.

 

  His eyebrows knit together tiredly as he tries to remember.

 

  He had woken up, eaten with Aunt Yoo. Usually he took it right before breakfast, why hadn’t he today? After that Yoo went out to pick up Hyunjin, and Minho had gotten caught up in old videos and the Festival hadn’t he. So when did he take his meds?

 

  Minho’s eyes slip shut, too tired to think too much of it. Today was a busier day than he’s had since he arrived, and he needs sleep if he wants to be able to hang out with Hyunjin before he leaves tomorrow at noon for his train home.

 

  He just won’t let himself forget again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> them: omg this is so well planned out  
> me: yee yeet
> 
> no but seriously thanks for reading this far ill see y'all next chapter thnks so much for all the comments and kudos last chapter! next chapter is where the real fun starts
> 
> exams start for me tomorrow so next chapter might take a bit longer, i'm gonna try my best though <3


	6. l'idiotie de deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no words, just read (actually there's like 7k words but you know what i mean lol)

  “Get back here!” Aunt Yoo catches Minho by the collar of his shirt and drags him back through the doorway, a disapproving scowl on her face as she places her hands on her hips. “You’re forgetting something young man.”

 

  “Aunt Yoo—” Minho begins to whine, hearing Younghyun press his car horn again, longer this time.

 

  “Nuh uh mister,” Aunt Yoo clicks her tongue disapprovingly, holding her arms open and snapping her fingers.

 

  Minho rolls his eyes at the teasing grin on Aunt Yoo’s face, but allows her to pull him in for a hug, knowing that he looks as impatient as he feels when Aunt Yoo chuckles and ruffles his hair. Another honk sounds from the front yard, and Minho feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his jeans. Probably Seungmin.

 

  Minho had received most of the boys numbers a few days before, when one of them realized that Minho should probably have a way to contact them, seeing as they were leaving the island.

 

  “Hmph, go on then.” Aunt Yoo releases him, fixing a strand of hair that hangs in his eyes—freshly cut at Minho’s own request the night before.

 

  It had been a long process, and Minho would be lying if he said his hands hadn’t been trembling the entire time. He might’ve flinched every time the scissors snipped by his ears, hearing Aunt Yoo suck in a breath every so often, refusing to let Minho look in the mirror until she was finished. Needless to say it had been a nightmare.

 

 The YouTube videos Aunt Yoo pulled up seemed to help out though, and when she pulled the towel off of Minho’s shoulders to let him look at his reflection he wasn’t upset by the outcome. It wasn’t that much different than what it had been before, even though the amount of hair he swept up seemed to say differently. It was the same but more refined, and Minho’s hair looked darker now that all the dead ends were gone.

 

  His face looks more open now.

 

  “Have fun, drink lots of water, stay safe!” Aunt Yoo calls after Minho as he skips down the steps of the porch and across the yard where Younghyun’s jeep is parked.

 

  Minho had woken up early that morning, surprised by the energy that seemed to thrum through his body even before his morning tea—as Aunt Yoo wasn’t a fan of coffee. A nice warm mug of sugar laced chai and milk on the porch as the trees rustled around him. It had been humid but relatively mediocre when it came to temperature, just warm enough that Minho didn’t need to bother with a sweater.

 

  Now, almost an hour after lunchtime the sun is high in the sky and it’s warmed considerably.

 

  Minho tries to be as subtle as possible as he smooths his tee shirt out, jogging across the sparse grass of the front yard. He can see Seungmin in the back of the white jeep and Jisung in the front passenger seat.

 

  “‘Sup.” Seungmin greets Minho when he reaches the car, something that looks like an amp sitting in the seat beside him.

 

  “Don’t be afraid to climb in Minho.” Younghyun yells from the front of the car, and Minho can see the older man’s smile in the rear view mirror. “Hurry up boys we have a ferry to catch!”

 

  Minho grabs the bar that goes across the back of the car and slides in, squeezing between Seungmin and the amp with a little bit of effort. Once he buckles himself in—with some help from Seungmin pointing out where the buckle should go—he turns and waves to Aunt Yoo, who waves back enthusiastically as they pull away.

 

  He only looks forwards again when the house is out of sight.

 

  “Did you get a haircut?” Minho hears Jisung ask him, and is almost surprised that the other boy noticed so quickly.

 

  Jisung has turned his body in his seat so he’s facing Minho, wavy hair tucked under a worn baseball cap.

 

  “Just a trim, but yeah.” Minho nods, running his fingers through the blunt shaved hair on the nape of his neck. He wants to ask if Jisung likes it, even though it’s not too much of a change for what it had been.

 

  “It’s nice.”

 

  “So Minho,” Younghyun interrupts before Minho can respond to Jisung. “Do you have anything you want to do today besides see us win the Battle of the Bands?”

 

  Minho cracks a smile, thinking about the article he saw on the festivals website about its dance performances. He’d like to see those, sure, but he doesn’t want to drag anyone else out of the way of their own enjoyment.

 

  “Nothing in particular.”

 

  “I’m sure you’ll find something. The rest of the band is already there to set up, Woojin and Chan are bringing the rest of you kids up later in the night. I’m sure you Sungie and Seungmin will find something to do together though.”

 

  “I’ve got something to do actually.” Seungmin butts in, eyes focused on the screen of his cell phone as he types something.

 

  “You know the festival grounds, right Jisung?” Younghyun asks as they creep through the town, waiting for a man to herd his chicken across the pavement.

 

  “Uh, yeah I think so.” Jisung doesn’t sound too sure about himself.

 

  “Perfect, you can take Minho around then.”

 

  In the rear view mirror Minho can see Younghyun smirking, and he is almost sure he notices Jisung scowling at his older brother. They’re back to normal before Minho can get a good look though. He feels himself frowning, wondering what he had just watched. Did Jisung not want to show him around? He doesn’t really mind if that’s the case, he just hopes Jisung doesn’t feel like he has to take Minho with him when he could be having a better time on his own.

 

  The car goes silent when they reach the port, Younghyun handing a few bills to the captain of the ferry before driving onto the vessel and parking.

 

  “I’ll be back in a second, gotta talk to Captain Yang about something.” Younghyun excuses himself out of the car.

 

  Jisung acknowledges his brother with a noncommittal grunt, rifling through the center console for something Minho can’t see. Seungmin is too engrossed in whatever is on his phone, and doesn’t even acknowledge Younghyun leaving. Which leaves Minho to entertain himself.

 

  Last week had left him in a good mood, he and Hyunjin had gone to the diner at the ass crack of dawn to make their time together last, and because Soonie showed up at Minho’s window, as she does occasionally, and cried until he woke up and let her in. Hyunjin fell in love with her even faster than Aunt Yoo did—which is saying something.

 

  Minho hadn’t mentioned the kitten to Hyunjin, and received an earful from Hyunjin demanding to have a picture of Soonie everyday and updates on what she did. If Hyunjin didn’t have his own puppy at home Minho would have feared that Soonie would be smuggled home in Hyunjin’s backpack.

 

  Minho introduced Hyunjin to Chan when he sat them, and the three of them had a pleasant conversation over fries when Chan asked if he could steal one or two.

 

  Woojin popped in to say hello when he dropped off some fruit for Chan. ‘From my mom’ he had said, a shy smile on his face. Hyunjin leaned in as soon as Chan was outside of earshot, startling Minho’s orange juice down the wrong pipe.

 

  “Are they dating or something?” Hyunjin had asked in a very bad stage whisper, taking Minho off guard again as he choked on his juice.

 

  “Bitch I don’t know, eat your waffles!” Minho had wheezed, pushing Hyunjin back to his side of the booth.

 

  All in all, it was a pleasant day.

 

  Minho had gone with Aunt Yoo and Hyunjin to the train station this time, carrying Hyunjin’s backpack for him and totally not tearing up when Hyunjin took it from him. He had refused to think of saying goodbye to Hyunjin, wanting to make the most of their day. His camera roll was almost three hundred pictures bigger now, full of snapshots and little videos of them around the island and Hyunjin being goofy.

 

  Hyunjin had changed his own lockscreen to a picture of Minho glaring at him, Hyunjin’s finger poked into his cheek and squishing it. Hyunjin had cooed over the picture for a full hour, much to Minho’s embarrassment.

 

  And of course when Minho left his phone with Hyunjin for five minutes to use the bathroom he came back to both wallpapers changed to a picture of Hyunjin and Minho at the beach from the day before. A selfie Hyunjin took of Minho looking awkward as usual, while Hyunjin pushed his lips out in a kissy face right by Minho’s ear. He still managed to look like a model though.

 

  Aunt Yoo rubbed his back when the train pulled away, Hyunjin waving to them until the train turned out of the station and around the corner.

 

  Minho had felt both happier and sadder than he could ever remember on the ride home, glossing over Hyunjin’s departure with the thought that he would be back in a few weeks at most.

 

  Minho presses the power button to his phone, the picture of Hyunjin disappearing from view when he slides his phone into his pocket. He sent a picture of Soonie asleep on his bed right before he left, Hyunjin hasn’t said anything about it yet.

 

  The ferry ride is the shortest by far, as they’re going to one of the closer ports where the festival will be held.

 

  “Jae burned a CD of some of our songs,” Younghyun says when the pull away from the mainlands port.

 

  “Yeah well where’d he put it cause I’ve been looking for like ten min—”

 

  Before Jisung can finish whining Younghyun has the CD held up, right in front of Jisung’s eyes.

 

  Minho holds in his laughter when Jisung snatches the CD away and grumbles under his breath, jamming his finger into a few buttons and watching the CD get sucked into the slot in the radio.

 

  “What songs does it have?” Seungmin asks excitedly, leaning forwards in his seat enough for his seat belt to lock him in place.

 

  “Hm, let’s see…” Jisung flips the CD case over and mumbles for a few seconds. “Aha! This one is perfect.”

 

 Jisung skips until the ninth track, and leans back in his seat. A drum beat counts the song in, and all the sudden Wonpil’s voice is filling up the car. It’s not entirely shitty quality for something that was clearly recorded at home, and Minho is surprised to hear the song has what he could only describe as a vintage rock vibe. It’s almost like one of the songs his dad listens to on occasion, though this one is much more upbeat.

 

  _“I’m serious, my eyes say that I like you.”_ Younghyun sings the chorus, joined by Jisung and Seungmin. Minho is shocked to hear their voices blending together so seamlessly.

 

  “Why don’t you feel it? My face is so obvious!” Jisung throws his arms up, face screwed up in a bright smile as he moves his body to the beat.

 

  Minho finds that even he is humming along to the chorus towards the end of the song, breaking out into loud laughter when he sees the deadly serious expression on Seungmin’s face when he sings Wonpil’s part. His voice harmonizes with his brother’s perfectly.

 

  The air whips through the open Jeep as they drive at the edge of the ocean, the water a deep cerulean blue that looks neverending. Minho listens to the song, Jisung and Seungmin singing every part while Younghyun mostly sticks to his own.

 

  They hear the festival before they see it.

 

  Loud booming music with overlapping songs that grow louder when they turn away from the shore at an intersection. Minho rubs his palms over his jeans, neck straining as he watches the venue grow closer.

 

  There’s a fuck ton of people.

 

  Younghyun drops them off by the edge of the festival, since he has to take the Jeep and get it through the crowds where the rest of the band is waiting for him. After they get out, Seungmin excuses himself to deal with his ‘special project’, brownish red hair disappearing into the sea of people who are all moving in the same direction.

 

  Minho and Jisung stand in silence for a moment, or at least as silent as it can get when there are people talking all around them.

 

  “You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.” Minho says it so fast, he barely understands it himself. Jisung’s head perks up, eyes widening.

 

  “Wuh—What?”

 

  “You can go, have fun. You don’t have to stay with me.” Minho repeats himself, focusing on the fingernail he’s currently picking at so he doesn’t have to make the situation any more uncomfortable with actual eye contact.

 

  “Minho, come on.”

 

  Minho looks up in time to see Jisung rolling his eyes, smiling at Minho fondly.

 

  “Oh, okay.”

 

  Minho’s cheeks feel hot, and he stays a few steps behind Jisung. There are people all around them, but the crowd doesn’t get especially thick for a while, not until the stages where the performances are set up begin.

 

  “I came here with Younghyun and Sungjin last year,” Jisung talks as they go, looking back every so often to check on Minho, probably to make sure he isn’t being too slow. “Seeing them perform is gonna be so cool, they say they wrote some cover songs so people could sing along. I hate that Younghyun is so good at keeping secrets, he wouldn’t even give me a hint.”

 

  Minho hums in response, but he’s not sure if Jisung even hears it with how loud it’s become around them.

 

  There’s a multitude of people walking around, from young children gripping their parents hands, teenagers Jisung and Minho’s age, to older folks around Minho’s parents age and on. They walk past a pair of old ladies watching a busking event at one point.

 

  “Is there anything you want to see?” Jisung asks him, eyes trained on a food truck further down the stretch of street.

 

  “Um, I like dancing?”

 

  “Really?” Jisung looks excited, but then there’s a rush of people walking past them, and Minho feels himself being dragged away when someone much bigger clips him with their shoulder.

 

  Minho panics, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Jisung’s shirt to anchor himself. The fear fizzling out almost as soon as it washed over him. It takes him a moment to regain his bearings and realize he’s right in Jisung’s space, wrinkling Jisung’s nice sky blue colored shirt with how tight he’s holding it.

 

  “Woah, are you okay?” Jisung asks, and Minho nods quickly. He’s fine, just shaken up that’s all. The thought of losing Jisung in a place like this is far from ideal. “Here.”

 

  It takes a moment for Minho to look down and realize that Jisung is holding his hand out to Minho, as in, to hold hands. With Jisung. Both of them, with their hands.

 

  “So you don’t get lost,” Jisung says. He must take Minho’s internal panic as confusion—Minho isn’t sure which is worse.

 

  Minho releases Jisung’s shirt and takes his hand, only his movements are too jerky and fast in his haste to hide his panic. He ends up grabbing most of Jisung’s thumb and some of his palm, but honestly Minho’s hands are smaller than Jisung’s so it doesn’t make too much of a problem when Jisung wraps his hand around Minho’s. He doesn’t comment on the awkward placement thankfully, and his gentle grip doesn’t falter.

 

  “Thanks.” Minho breathes out, feeling a little lightheaded.

 

  “Of course, now let’s go find the dancing booths!” Jisung grins, tugging Minho along.

 

  Their hands swing between them every so often, and Minho finds himself walking closer to Jisung when the crowd becomes too thick but also at other times, when Jisung inexplicably tugs him closer. Minho doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t mind it.

 

  He feels safer knowing Jisung won’t let him get carried away into the sea of people.

 

  The music is louder towards the middle of the festival, where Minho can see teams of dancers dancing and interacting with the crowd. There are banners hung up with the names of some of the dance academies, and many of the dancers wear their academies colors and symbols so people know where they’re from.

 

  “There’s a dance battle tomorrow, today it’s more practice before the bands perform.” Jisung says. He and Minho have made themselves comfortable by the side of Busan Dance Academies stage, which much like the rest is just a stretch of platform a foot higher than the ground.

 

  A small trill rings through the air, and Jisung shifts so he can pull his phone out of his pocket.

 

  “Oh, Woojin says the rest of the guys just got here. I’ll tell them to meet us.”

 

  Jisung begins to type, using one thumb to clumsily respond to Woojin.

 

  Minho’s eyes wander down to where his shoulder is pressed up against Jisungs. There’s too many people around them for personal space right now, but Jisung doesn’t seem to mind as he cheers. Every few songs someone from the crowd will be pulled on stage, prompting loud screams of delight from those watching.

 

  The team on the stage in front of them is dancing to a girl group song that Minho faintly remembers dancing to once a year or so at his own academy. He can’t remember the name, but he enjoys seeing Jisung do a pale comparison of the dance movements.

 

  Minho wonders what girl groups Jisung listens to, imagining Jisung dancing to them clumsily in the privacy of his bedroom.

 

  His eyes travel down Jisung’s arm, and he does a double take when he sees their hands.

 

  Somewhere along the way their fingers became loosely intertwined.

 

_Ba-Dump._

 

  Minho’s eyes widen when his heart skips a beat. He knows he didn’t, so did that mean Jisung laced their fingers together?

 

  Jisung’s hand squeezes his own lightly, and Minho looks up to see Jisung looking at him with a curious expression, glancing down to their hands and back up at Minho.

 

  “Minho, are you… okay?”

 

  _Is this okay?_ Jisung seems to be asking him.

 

  Minho opens his mouth to respond, but there’s a surge of cheering around them, and he turns his head to see two of the dancers standing at the edge of the stage. One of them grabbing his free hand and tugging him towards the stage.

 

   _Oh fuck no_. Minho’s eyes widen as his hand is pulled away from Jisung’s, the two dancers helping him up on stage. He plasters his hands to the sides of his legs, hearing the cheers of the crowd grow more intense as the dancers place their hands on his shoulders and dance beside him, singing along to the song is playing.

 

  Minho knows his face is bright red, and he glances down into the crowd to see Jisung watching him with wide eyes. He gives Minho a small thumbs up when they make eye contact.

 

  The song changes eventually, and Minho is surprised that he recognizes it this time, Good-Bye Baby. He had even done a cover of it a few months before he left his old dance academy.

 

  A female dancer takes his hands and drags him to the middle of the stage, unlike the other people who had been allowed off after one song. They pull him into the middle, and Minho looks out at the crowd, breath catching in his throat when he sees hundreds of people watching him. His knees might be shaking, he can’t tell.

 

  The first few beats of the song kick in though, and Minho feels a familiar rush come over him when he finds he remembers the moves of the song.

 

  Minho looks over at the dancer beside him to check he’s making the right moves, seeing a pleasantly surprised expression on the girls face when they make eye contact. Minho breaks into a smile and tries to put his all into the dance, surprised when he feels a familiar rush of adrenaline from being on stage again, something he hadn’t feel in almost a year.

 

  He knows he’s laughing as he moves, face breaking out into a grin when he catches sight of Jisung and sees him cheering enthusiastically.

 

  He missed dancing too much.

 

  All too soon the song is over, and Minho finds himself panting with the rest of the dancers as they take a water break. A few of them pat him on the back with curious expressions, and Minho feels the adrenaline bleed away as sweat drips down his temple.

 

  “Hey kid.” Minho turns to see a young man looking at him, his tee shirt showing the dance academy’s logo on the chest.

 

  “I uh,” Minho glances over to the edge of the stage where Jisung is standing waiting for him, most of the crowd moving on now that the show has taken a break. “Sorry, I just knew the song and—”

 

  The man shakes his hand, stopping Minho from continuing in his apology. “Nah kid, I’m not worried about that. You were great, I wanna know if you’re interested in dancing, or if that was just you knowing a random girl group dance.”

 

  “I used to dance, yeah. Soul Dance. I haven’t for a while though.”

 

  “Hm. Here’s my card if you’re interested in starting up again, tell them you’re looking for Soonyoung.”

 

  Minho takes the card, which is really just a scrap of paper with a quickly scribbled phone number on it.

 

  “Thank you.” Minho cringes when he stutters, but Soonyoung only smiles at him and pats his shoulder.

 

  “No problem kid, I’d like to see more of you.”

 

  Minho tucks the paper into his pocket and walks across the stage, where Jisung is waiting for him. As soon as Minho’s feet hit the ground Jisung grabs his hands and tugs on his arm incessantly.

 

  “Oh my god, Minho!” Jisung’s eyes are wide with something Minho can’t think of the name of. If he didn’t know any better he would call it admiration, but there’s no reason for Jisung to be looking at him like that. “That was so cool! You were so chic and sexy, and—Why didn’t you tell me you could dance?”

 

  “It just, never came up?” Minho tries, mind scrambling to think of something else to say when Jisung pouts, his lower lip sticking out as he hits Minho with puppy dog eyes that rival Hwang Hyunjin’s. Minho swallows loudly when he feels Jisung’s fingers slide across his own and lace them together again.

 

   _Ba-Dump._

 

Jisung insists on them getting something to eat before they go anywhere else, pulling Minho through the crowd towards the food trucks that line the walkways.

 

  “Seriously you were so cool,” Jisung hasn’t stopped talking about Minho’s dancing, not even when ordered a chicken skewer.

 

  Jisung eats in what has to be the strangest way Minho has ever seen; his lips pursed as he speaks around cheeks full of the food. Minho has to fight the urge to poke one of them, reminded of how Changbin had called Jisung a squirrel at the band practice.

 

  “Do you want some?” Jisung holds the chicken skewer up to Minho’s face. “You should eat.”

 

  Minho blinks away the urge to squish Jisung’s cheeks, knowing it probably wouldn’t be very appreciated. His hand overlaps Jisung’s when he takes the end of the skewer, eating one of the last pieces of chicken.

 

  His phone buzzes on the table they sat at when Jisung got his food, and Minho looks down to see the picture of him and Hyunjin staring up at him, most of his own face obscured by a text from Hyunjin, riddled with heart emojis and heart eyes. He must have seen the picture of Soonie.

 

  Minho deletes the notification, he’ll respond later. He looks over at Jisung, and sees Jisung is staring at his phone. His lips are pursed together into a small frown, and he looks deep in thought.

 

  “Jisung?” Minho tilts his head, and hesitates a moment before waving his hand in front of Jisung’s eyes.

 

  “Sorry, what?” Jisung perks up, the faint frown disappearing.

 

  “Are you—”

 

  “Minho! Jisung!”

 

  A loud screech cuts Minho off, and he turns to see Jeongin and Felix running over to them, while Changbin, Woojin, and Chan pick their way through the crowd more carefully a few paces back.

 

  “Jisung, look!” Jeongin bares his teeth as he grows closer, pointing to his mouth excitedly.

 

  It takes a minute for Minho to realize what Jeongin means, and he only sees the heartbreaking sight when Jeongin grows closer.

 

  “Your braces are off!” Minho gasps, and Jeongin nods excitedly, his grin unfaltering.

 

  “God, stop saying it, I’m gonna cry again.”

 

  Minho turns to see the three older boys have reached them, and Chan is pouting. His eyes do look a little wet, rimmed with a line of red. Woojin throws his arm around Chan’s shoulders and rubs his arm, and Chan lets out a long sigh.

 

  “How dare you!” Jisung is shaking Jeongin by his shoulders, but there’s a wide smile on his face and Minho can tell they’re all happy for Jeongin.

 

  The rest of the boys squeeze in to sit with Minho and Jisung, Changbin and Felix disappearing to grab some food so they can all eat a more proper dinner before the show. Minho hadn’t even realized that it was getting so late, the sun slowly growing closer to the horizon.

 

  After, they go out to watch the busking stages.

 

  Seungmin meets up with them at some point, a few hours before the bands will start to play, but he still refuses to let anyone know what his super secret project is—much to the dismay of Jisung especially.

 

  “Woah look over there!” Felix calls out, and drags them all to a stage full of people.

 

  It doesn’t look like a busking stage, just something for anyone to step up if they know the song that’s playing. Apparently Felix and Jisung know a lot of songs.

 

  Minho watches as Jisung shakes his hips to JYP’s Who’s Your Mama, the boys voice high pitched as he doubles over in giggles with Felix onstage.

 

_“Shake that booty that booty booty!”_

 

Minho’s cheeks are sore from how wide he smiles, and he watches through Seungmin’s phone as he videos the two boys making complete fools of themselves, dancing to Dance the Night Away like their lives depend on it.

 

  “I’ll send it to you later.” Seungmin says through an evil grin, giving Minho a triumphant fist bump.

 

  Once the sun hits the edge of the horizon, the spaces where people were busking clear out fast. More people are moving towards the far side of the venue where the bands will be performing. Minho notices a majority of the people going to watch the bands are younger, not that he doesn’t see the occasional senior or middle school age kid walking past them.

 

  Minho feels Jisung’s shoulder brush up against his own occasionally, but the touch his held back now, and Jisung doesn’t make a move to hold his hand again. Minho doesn’t want to say he’s disappointed, but there’s a faint pull at his heart that tells him that he is.

  
  


  “Hey, Minho.”

 

  Minho turns to see Chan standing off to the side from where Woojin and the younger boys are watching one of the final busking events.

 

  “What’s up?”

 

  “Woojin agreed to make sure they don’t get into trouble, Changbin and I are gonna go hang out where the bands are performing.” Chan explains, hands deep in his pockets. “You wanna come?”

 

  Minho glances over to where Woojin stands with the three younger boys, imagining hanging out with him for a while. Minho doesn’t mind Woojin, he actually likes him a lot. He just doesn’t think right now is a good time to test out how good their personalities go together while Felix and Jisung argue about which girl group is better. It’s cute, Minho is just good at recognizing a chance to get out, especially when he sees Felix turn to Woojin to ask him his opinion.

 

  Minho shoots Woojin an apologetic smile when they make eye contact, the older male rolling his eyes and waving Minho off. He has things under control.

 

  “Yeah, that sounds chill.”

 

  It’s not chill.

 

  The pit in front of the stage is already filled with people by the time they get there, and there’s a screamo band on stage. Minho thinks he sees his life flash before his eyes when a woman wearing nothing but a lace bra and literally the tiniest pair of short shorts ever walks by him.

 

  “Oh my god.” Minho manages as him Chan and Changbin wrestle through the crowd.

 

  The two boys seem to share his sentiment.

 

  Minho is sure that after today he’ll end up sleeping for the rest of the summer. Well, maybe not the whole summer. He doesn’t mind hanging out with the guys, Jisung. He knows that he’ll probably never attend a mosh pit though.

 

  “Minho, look out!” He hears Changbin yell.

 

  Minho feels a hand on his shoulder, and glances over to see Chan’s worried gaze just as a splash of something cold soaks all over his left shoulder and chest.

 

  “Fuck!” Minho screeches at the ice cubes that roll down his stomach, flinching away from the now soaking wet fabric of his shirt—covered in something blue, and smells like his dad after him and his work buddies go out for a bender and he wakes up the whole floor at three in the morning. Yep. Definitely alcohol.

 

  “Sorry! I didn’t even see her!” Chan rushes out apologies to Minho, while the girl who spilled the drink looks absolutely mortified.

 

  “S’fine.” Minho pulls the shirt off of his stomach, the stained white fabric almost transparent now; and Minho is not interested in a bunch of strangers seeing what lies underneath. “Just really fucking cold.”

 

  “Seungmin has a spare shirt, c’mon dude.”

 

  Minho follows Chan and Changbin through the crowd, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of the alcohol coming from his ruined shirt. He almost wishes he had braved it out with Woojin.

 

  “How do you know Seungmin has a spare shirt?” Minho asks when they reach the far, and less crowded side of the pit.

 

  Changbin makes a face, as if he’s debating whether to tell Minho or not.

 

  “Okay so technically we’re not supposed to know, but at this point necessity trumps secrecy.”

 

  “Dude, just tell him.” Chan rolls his eyes, and Minho sees Seungmin walking up to them in the distance, a cardboard box in his arms. He looks mildly pissed off.

 

  “Seungmin made shirts for the band.”

 

  “Yes I did and I can’t believe you idiots are making me do this.” Seungmin says loudly, making Changbin jump and scuttle over behind Chan. As if that will make him safer, Minho has seen Seungmin chase after Jeongin—if he wants you he gets you.

 

  “In our defense—”

 

  “Oh shut up, I’m only doing this because it’s Minho. If it were either of you two you’d have a new tye dye shirt.”

 

  Minho presses his lips together to hold back his laughter, watching Chan and Changbin’s faces both go through a mix of fear and offense at Seungmin’s words to them.

 

  “Hey! We’re older than you!” Changbin says, but even then his voice is uncertain.

 

  Seungmin glares at Changbin, promptly shutting him up. He turns to Minho with a bundle of dark fabric in his hands, pointing him to a changing room around the corner. Minho walks away from them just as Seungmin begins berating Chan and Changbin; and as much as he would like to watch the show, he also wants to get out of his sticky shirt.

 

  Minho slips backstage easily, just waiting for someone to stop him and ask him why he’s back here. He walks down the hall with his eyes on the ground, counting the steps in his head until he turns the corner and finds the dressing room. He shuts himself inside quickly.

 

  The sound of the band is muted in the small room, and Minho turns to find a full length mirror on the wall.

 

  His hair is messed up, but after brushing his fingers through it a few times it looks almost presentable. If anything the worst thing about his appearance is his shirt, suctioned to his body like an extra layer of blue skin. It takes one look for Minho to know that it’s unsalvageable.

 

  Oh well, it’s just a shirt.

 

  Minho peels the soaking wet fabric off of him, grimacing when it hits his face. The sour smell a bit too familiar for comfort.

 

  The tee shirt falls to the floor with a wet sound, and when Minho pokes his stomach there’s a sticky feeling to it. He’s definitely taking a shower as soon as he gets home.

 

  He unfolds the shirt Seungmin gave him and pulls it on.

 

  Minho looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t like what he sees, he never really has. His therapist back in the city told him it was all in his head really, that he was the perfect example of health. Still Minho couldn’t help but feel like he was too small, didn’t have enough muscle. It was so much easier to hide it with his hoodies though, back in the city where things are cold and the wind is unforgiving and Minho can hide in plain sight. 

 

  The shirt Seungmin gave him is a tank top, or at least was made into one by a pair of scissors. The holes that were once the sleeves go down to the bottom of his rib cage, and when Minho turns to the side, he can see _a lot_ of his chest and ribs. There’s a symbol on the front, the number six surrounded by paint splatters, it’s all printed on with the care that makes it look handmade.

 

  He presses his arms to his sides, smooths the shirt down. Nothing offers much privacy.

 

  It’s still better than his old shirt though.

 

  The halls are far more crowded when Minho steps out of the changing room, bustling with people and stage technicians yelling out orders. He tries to stay out of their way, walking so he’s almost pressed up against the wall. He tosses his old shirt out in the first trash bin he comes across.

 

_“What’s good Busan? We are Day Six and this is Shoot Me!”_

 

  Minho startles as a loud voice booms through the speaker, recognizing the accented words as spoken by Jae.

 

  But if that’s Jae—

 

  Minho looks down at the shirt he’s wearing, and Seungmin’s little project makes sense all of the sudden. He made them for the release of the band’s name. Day6.

 

  He moves faster now that he can hear the music, the thought of missing too much of the show pushing him through the crowd. Which by the way, has almost tripled since Minho stepped out, and he wasn’t even gone ten minutes. Far in the middle of the crowd though, Minho can see a group of boys dancing, and he swears he can hear Seungmin and Jisung singing along to every word, even catching a flash of blonde hair as Jisung aggressively head bangs.

 

  “Minho!” Changbin notices him first, elbowing someone in the pit away to make room for him. Minho is oddly touched by the violent form of affection.

 

  Someone wolf whistles—he suspects Chan—and there’s a finger poking at Minho’s ribs. He looks up to see Jeongin jump away with a sly smile, and slip away to dance with Felix and Seungmin. Minho swats after the boy, but doesn’t actually hit anything, he knows his face is burning red from the attention.

 

  “Hey Minho we have the same shirt!”

 

   Minho turns to see Jisung standing extremely close to him, yet still having to yell so they can hear each other. 

 

  Minho is pretty sure that Day6 will be the cause of any future hearing loss he has. Sure enough though, Jisung is wearing one of Seungmin’s tee shirts—though his is actually a tee shirt. Minho is starting to feel like the odd man out in this equation.

 

  “Woah—!” Jisung eyes widen when he sees Minho’s arms on display, bouncing on his toes to the beat of the drums. Minho’s hands move to cover his biceps on reflex, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

  “Seungmin gave it to me!” Minho leans in so Jisung can hear him, eyes flickering up to the stage where the band are playing an instrumental break, all of them look like idols. 

 

  The audience seems to be loving them, even if most of their songs are unknown.

 

  There’s a gentle pressure by Minho’s ear, and he realizes after a second that Jisung is cupping his hand around his mouth. The boy misjudged their distance though, so his lips brush against Minho’s ear as he speaks.

 

_“You look really good!”_

 

Minho blinks a few times in shock, looking over at Jisung to see him grinning.

 

  Jisung takes his hand, and without warning drags him up towards the front of the crowd where the rest of the guys have made themselves comfortable, jumping up and down to the beat of the second song—one Minho hasn’t heard yet. It doesn’t really matter though, because as soon as he sees Jisung enthusiastically holding his hands in the air and screaming along to Younghyun’s rapping word for word he finds himself getting lost in the bass that makes everything around them tremble and the sight of Jisung smiling brighter than the sun.

 

  Minho doesn’t really pay attention to the band much.

 

  They play almost five original songs without stopping, and Minho finds that even he is proud of the guys. Their final song isn’t an original, but a medley of english songs that Minho doesn’t know the lyrics to but recognizes the beat of. Minho catches sight of Felix and Jisung with their arms around each other’s shoulders, stepping side to the beat in cute little bounces.

 

  Jisung catches him watching and holds a hand out, and Minho is happy to take it. They’re both sweaty and gross, but Minho throws his arm around Jisung and Felix and joins with them.

 

  “You can count on me like one two three, I’ll be there!” Jisung sings sweetly, tapping on Minho’s shoulder and pointing to something in front of them.

 

 Minho almost doubles over in laughter when he sees Woojin dancing with Changbin, Chan standing off to the side a bit with a clear pout on his face. It’s comically funny, and also sweet how Chan is clearly whipped for the oldest boy. Minho hopes he musters up the confidence to ask Woojin to dance at least once tonight.

 

  Jisung rests his head on Minho’s shoulder, and he glances down to see Jisung watching Chan with a sympathetic smile. Still mouthing the words to the song as he dances.

 

  Minho knows he’s sweaty as all hell, he can see the sheen on his skin every time a light flashes overhead. There’s hundreds of bodies surrounding them but Jisung is dancing with him, and he feels on top of the world. Even though his limbs are sore from dancing earlier and his hair is plastered to his head Jisung has his arms wrapped around him—Felix drifting off to dance somewhere else—and every glance of eye contact between them is like an electric shock of energy telling Minho that this is what _living_ is. Even if he’s going to need a month of sleep to make up for it, it’s worth it.

 

  Jisung laughs into his chest, and Minho feels his limbs malfunction. Jisung has had his arms loosely wrapped around Minho’s neck since they started dancing but he’s starting to think he’s in way over his head when Jisung looks up at him with his eyes all wrinkled up and his cute crooked front tooth peeking out.

 

   _Ba-Dump._

  

 

  Day6 takes first place of the battle, and Minho and the guys celebrate by selling the bands CD’s by the front door. Seungmin sneakily uses both Minho and Changbin as his models for the shirts, shamelessly making Changbin flex his arm muscles and just pointing at Minho.

 

  Minho knows he’s as stiff as a board under all the attention, curling in on himself whenever he makes eye contact with a girl and they look away giggling. _What even is that?_

 

  They sell every shirt and CD within half an hour of the performance ending.

 

The band looks surprised to see Seungmin with the shirts, especially when he offers five handmade shirts for each of them. Wonpil cries a lot, while Dowoon changes into the shirt almost immediately, a proud look on his face as he looks down at the symbol.

 

 They say their last goodbyes to the rest of the boys, Jisung going around and giving tired hugs to everyone before returning to Minho and resting his head on his bicep. Minho settles for waving with his free hand, stifling his laughter at the distressed look on Chan's face when he tries to take a headcount of the remaining boys, who somehow still have energy even this late.

 

  He catches sight of Woojin in the back, and when they make eye contact he sees Woojin mouth one word. _Karma_.

 

  Minho hides his smile behind his hand, waving goodbye when Chan finally rounds up the kids and they go off to find Woojin’s car.

 

  “Jeez alright kiddos,” Younghyun walks up to them after saying his goodbyes to the rest of the band, ruffling Jisung’s hair affectionately and looking both of them up and down with an amused smile. Both Jisung and Minho are swaying on their feet, and Minho’s eyes are beginning to water from all the yawning he’s done. “No after party for you two I guess.”

 

  “I could party all night what do you—” Jisung’s complaining is cut off by the biggest yawn Minho has ever seen, which prompts him and Younghyun to yawn as well.

 

  “Yeah, bedtime for you bud.” Younghyun chuckles, adjusting the strap to his bass and the amp he carries in his other hand.

  


  The ride home is slow so the wind won’t wake Jisung up—who passed out in the backseat beside Minho as soon as he sat down. Minho enjoys the gentle static of the radio playing as Younghyun drives.

 

  Minho leans his head on his hand, closing his eyes and feeling the cool wind coming up from the beach sift through his sweat soaked hair and cool him off. He hears Jisung shifting beside him, and feels the weight of Jisung’s head rest against his shoulder.

 

  Jisung’s flushed cheeks become squished as he cuddles into Minho’s shoulder, mouth hanging open as he snores lightly. Minho adjusts his arm so Jisung’s seat belt won’t dig into his neck, and pats Jisung’s hand lightly where it rests on Minho’s knee loosely.

 

_Ba-Dump._

 

  Minho is fucked, and he knows it. But maybe, he’s okay with it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't hate this chapter i swear, i just think i hyped it too much lol. oh well, the _fun_ stuff starts here and just keeps going
> 
> if anyone would like to watch the Day6 medley i referenced in this chapter you can watch it on [youtube!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DdhXepUJFq0)
> 
> plot twist this is just a story to hype day6
> 
> comments/kudos appreciated!


	7. back at sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS***  
> references to underage drinking  
> mentions of past sexual experiences  
> (nothing explicit i swear, it's just there)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome,,,,,,,,,, enjoy
> 
> this chapter is like 1/4 of me being in love with YoungK and i'm not sorry

  Minho stares out over the ocean with a furrow in his brow, absentmindedly stroking Soonie’s head where she lays curled up in his lap. She’s cradled in his arms like a baby, her face hidden in the loose fabric of Minho’s tee shirt. Her purring blends in with the rush further out where the water is more violent, and the gentle sound of the waves lapping at the shore.

 

  Minho tears his eyes away from the skyline and looks down at the fluffy creature in his arms.

 

  He wonders if his parents would let him get a cat when he went back, it would certainly make the apartment seem less daunting to go home to.

 

  “Minho!”

 

  He turns to see Aunt Yoo standing on the porch, visible through the patchy trees.

 

  “Coming!” Minho calls back.

 

  Soonie hops off of his lap almost on queue, and Minho sighs when she chirrups at him, waving at her pathetically.

 

 “Bye sweetie.”

 

  Minho kicks at the stones on the path as he walks, stepping over the roots that popped up after last night's rain. The wood of the porch is still damp when he walks up the steps and slides the back door open.

 

  “All fixed,” Aunt Yoo holds up the old knit sweater Minho had given to her the night before.

 

  “You did,” Minho says, almost in awe when he takes the garment from her.

 

  The sweater is one of Minho’s favorites, the one he would wear when it was cold in the apartment but his parents decided to be stingy about the thermostat, even though they all knew bumping it up a few notches would barely put a dent in the bank.

 

  Living in the city and going to a shit hole disguised as a private school didn’t leave much room for fashion, as Minho quickly learned. Most of his closet was designer, brand name. Minho didn’t care much for them, the windbreakers were loud, the flannels weren’t soft and broken in, and the holes in his jeans were too distracting.

 

  “It was a simple fix, I’ll teach you the stitch.”

 

  Minho runs his thumb over the bump of clumped up threads where Yoo had sewn it back together, a scar where there had once been a wound.

 

  He had torn it on a loose nail, and when he asked his parents how to fix it, they told him to buy a new one.

 

  Yet when Aunt Yoo had found it accidentally in a pile of laundry—from when Minho had nearly torn his closet apart trying to find an outfit for the festival—she had held it up, given it back to Minho when he pulled it away from her. He was so sure she would ask him why he still had it, why among all of the brand name shit he had an old sweater shoved into the bottom of his suitcase.

 

  Instead she had fixed it.

 

  Minho wears the sweater on his way to town later in the day, the sleeves cuffed so his fingers poke out whenever he reaches up and runs them over the scarred fabric on his chest absentmindedly.

 

  At the festival, Chan had hinted at needing extra help around the diner, and even if Minho didn’t need the money he was starting to resent being alone so much. Aunt Yoo had started coming home earlier, and they often ate dinner together, but Minho was still left alone for a good portion of the day. Time that was beginning to shift from long mornings buried under his duvet trying to fall back asleep until noon, to walks down to the pier and hanging out with Chan and Felix in the diner.

 

  He had yet to agree to a surfing lesson from any of the boys, even though they all seemed hellbent on getting Minho into the water.

 

  Chan is waiting on tables when Minho arrives, and his face lights up when Minho mentions being willing to help out. They decide that Minho will come in around ten in the morning because that’s when Felix’s shift ends, and Chan will train him for the next week or so until he’s comfortable.

 

  “So I’ll see you in a few days?” Chan asks with a bright tone, and Minho nods.

 

  “Definitely, I’ll try not to fuck up.”

 

  “Pfft, you’ll do just fine.” Chan pats him on the shoulder, saying goodbye when he notices a couple sitting themselves down on the other side of the diner. “See you later Min.”

 

  Minho expects to leave feeling nervous, but he finds that he’s excited to start.

 

  The town is relatively busy, or at least as busy as it can be when there’s only about three hundred people to make up the population. The men at the docks are rushing about to pack up their ships before they cast of for the afternoon, and most of the shops have their doors and windows open, inviting people inside. It’s peaceful.

 

  Minho walks across the road comfortably, as there are no cars to look for driving down the road.

 

  There’s a small shop across the road from Chan’s diner that sells surfboards, the one Felix had come from on the day Minho first bumped into him. There are a few proper surfboards propped up against the porch of the building.

 

  He thinks he remembers Changbin explaining the difference, that he and Jisung use short boards while Felix prefers a long board. Or at least something like that.

 

  “Watch out-!” Someone yells, and Minho has a sense of deja vu when he sees something come barreling towards him. Only this time it’s not Felix.

 

  It’s a giant fucking dog.

 

  Minho lets out an alarmed yelp when the animal crashes into him, sending him to the ground with a soft thump and attacking him with—kisses. Wet, slobbery kisses all over his face, jaw, nose, anywhere the dog can reach.

 

  “Mae! Mae, no!”

 

  Minho sputters when the dog is finally dragged off of him, wiping dog spit off his jaw and looking up to see none other than Jeongin holding the dog back by the leather collar that encircles it’s neck. The boy looks horribly guilty.

 

  “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t keep the leash without being dragged,” Jeongin sputters as he regains over the dog. “She’s so strong and-”

 

  “Don’t worry about it bud,” Minho says as he stands up, eyes wide when he sees the dog’s shoulders reach his hips. She’s really fucking big, and her tail is wagging so fast Minho is worried that if she hits Jeongin with it he’ll just go flying.

 

  “She’s huge,” Minho comments as he holds his hand out for her to sniff, though she forgoes formalities and goes straight to licking his hand as well.

 

  “I know, I’ve almost died twice today.”

 

  “Whose is she?”

 

  Mae bumps her colossal head against Minho’s thigh, looking to be pet, so he scratches behind her ears.

 

  “Dowoon’s. He’s visiting family on the mainland so she’s staying with Jisung for the weekend, I’m supposed to walk her in the mornings while he’s at work.” Jeongin sounds out of breath as he talks, and Minho notices that he has the leash looped around his arm a few times to keep it from being dragged away from him if Mae decides to run away again.

 

  “Here, let me hold her.” Minho offers, knowing he’s stronger than Jeongin. “Jisung has a job?”

 

  Jeongin hands him the leash, a relieved and grateful look on his face when Minho takes it. Minho keeps his hand on Mae’s head, and begins to walk when she tugs on the leash. She leads them both down the street a few paces ahead.

 

  Jeongin and Minho walking beside one another.

 

  “Yeah actually. I’m not sure if he still has his job on the mainland, that might just be while school is in session. He picked up extra hours recently though, and he said he’d give me a twenty every time I walked Mae for him.”

 

  Minho feels his teeth digging into his lower lip as he listens to Jeongin. He wonders why Jisung works so much.

 

  Shouldn’t a kid their age be having fun during the summer?

 

  Then again, Minho will never really know what it’s like to have to work for money. His parents have made sure everything was handed to him in life, and the thought leaves him grateful but bitter at the same time. Because he can spend time with the boys on the island, he can become their friend and talk with them and laugh with them, but at the end of the day Minho is a part of a whole other world than they are. Nothing will change that.

 

  “What does he do?”

 

  Minho presses his lips together when Mae tugs hard and his shoulder aches for a moment. She seems to recognize his discomfort though, and trots over to snuffle at his hand and make sure he’s alright.

 

  “He helps out at the loading docks, Sungjin got him a job earlier this year with his dad I think.”

 

  Jeongin has a hop in his step as he follows Mae, running his fingers through the thick fur on top of her head affectionately.

 

  Mae barks suddenly and turns to look at Minho, as if she’s expecting something.

 

  “Jisung’s house is around the corner, you can let the leash go.” Jeongin explains, and Minho releases the lead, watching Mae trot down the gravel road at a fast pace until she disappears around a clump of lilac bushes.

 

   _“Yah!”_ Someone yells, and Minho hears Mae’s energetic barking.

 

  He and Jeongin turn the corner to see Jisung’s house, and Younghyun standing by the porch with a can of paint and a paintbrush in hand. Mae stands almost at his height on her hind legs, and Younghyun seems wobbly under the weight of her front paws on his shoulders. Much like she had done with Minho, she’s licking the entirety of Younghyun’s face.

 

  “Jeongin, you’re supposed to keep her from doing this!” Younghyun yells at the younger boy, but his face is scrunched up into a smile.

 

  “Don’t blame me it was Minho!”

 

  “Wow.” Minho glares at Jeongin, who shrugs in response. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

 

  Mae finally leaves Younghyun alone, running up the porch steps and into the front door, propped open by an old stool.

 

  Jisung’s house is the first one Minho has seen on the island with two floors—not counting the shops in town that have apartments above them. The stretch of patchy grass that is the surrounding yard leads to a porch painted white, though half of it is fresh and the other has been sanded of all the old paint. The house itself is a lovely reddish pink hue, and some of its walls overgrown with vines and small plants, but it’s charming still.

 

  “Oh, hey Minho. How’ve ya been?”

 

  Minho looks back to Younghyun from where he was admiring a particularly leafy vine.

 

  “I’ve been okay, you?”

 

  Younghyun wipes his forehead, with his sleeve, and Minho has to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing when he sees the white streak of paint his arm left behind.

 

  “Fuck. I did it again didn't I.”

 

  “Yep.” Jeongin pipes up from behind Minho.

 

  Younghyun lets out a heavy sigh and drops the paint brush into the can, unbothered when the paint splashes out and hits his already streaked and spotted jeans. “C’mon, you guys can come inside while you wait for ‘Sung.”

 

  Jeongin bolts past Minho and Younghyun into the house. At least he waited for an invitation.

 

  “You met Mae I’m assuming?” Younghyun asks as they scale the porch steps, wiping his hands off on his shirt.

 

  “Yeah, she’s sweet.”

 

  “I thought you two would like each other.”

 

  There’s something about Younghyun’s tone that makes Minho curious, but not enough to ask. If anything Younghyun just seems happy to hear that they got along, though Minho isn’t sure why him making friends with a dog would make Younghyun happy.

 

  “I’m gonna go clean up, make yourself comfortable.”

 

  They slip their shoes off by the door, and Minho glances around the house curiously.

 

  Most of the walls are painted white, and that along with the huge windows that make up most of the walls creates an incredibly bright and spacious area. There’s indents in the couches that reveal years of habit, and Minho counts three ceiling high bookshelves that are filled to the brim with family photos and books.

 

  A group of three photos catches Minho’s eye, and he forgets about Younghyun beside him as he goes to look closer.

 

  The first is a wedding picture, of a man who looks startlingly like Jisung and Younghyun, sharing the same eye shape and cheekbones as the two boys. The woman holds more of a resemblance to Younghyun in the fact that she has a more round face, and they have the same nose. They must be Jisung and Younghyun’s parents.

 

  The second is a picture of Jisung and Younghyun at the beach, a scowl on a teenage Younghyun's face while Jisung looks genuinely ecstatic. Younghyun has his arm reluctantly wrapped around Jisung’s shoulder, and there's a pitiful sand castle in front of them.

 

  Minho's finds himself smiling fondly at the image.

 

  The third is just Jisung, but he’s very young. Maybe two or three, and he’s sitting on someone's lap, the woman cut off from the chest up so only Jisung is in frame. The picture is awful in quality, but Minho notices that unlike the rest of the pictures around the house of the family and a young Younghyun, it's the only image that doesn't take place on the island out of all the images Minho sees in the room. Instead the background is a park surrounded by a city, and it seems to be the furthest back Jisung' pictures go age-wise. They must have the other pictures somewhere. Younghyun was gone most of the year for college, so it would make sense that there were more pictures of him to fill up his absence. 

 

  The porch door creaks behind Minho, and he turns to see a flushed Jisung standing in the doorway.

 

  Jisung doesn't notice him at first, kicking off his work boots and running his fingers through sweat soaked hair. His cargo shorts and tee shirt are stained with sweat and dirt, and Minho wonders if Jisung’s job is challenging physically.

 

  “Shit!” Jisung jumps when he looks, up and makes eye contact with Minho, who is still standing by the bookshelf with all the pictures. Jisung has a hand over his heart. “Jeez, what the hell are you doing there?”

 

  “Suh—Sorry,” Minho squeaks out, feeling his face flush red in embarrassment.

 

  “No you’re fine, I was just surprised.”

 

  They stand there staring at each other awkwardly for a moment, until Jeongin comes around the corner and breaks the silence with his whining.

 

  “Jisung you owe me a twenty.”

 

  The house is full of sound; Mae’s nails clicking against the hardwood floors, the rush of water cutting off from a shower upstairs, Jeongin chattering on with enthusiasm about all the tricks Mae knows how to do.

 

  Younghyun comes down the stairs that lead to the kitchen, a fresh pair of paint free clothes on.

 

  “Jisung told me to give this to you,” He says, holding a few notes in Jeongin’s direction.

 

  “Thank you Younghyun!” Jeongin hops up from where he was crouched in front of Mae and trying—aka failing—to wrench the tennis ball out of her giant maw. Minho was almost nervous for the boy, but Mae’s temperament has been nothing but gentle since he met her, even when she pulled on her leash.

 

  Jeongin takes the money and runs out of the room.

 

  “Is he-?”

 

  “Yeah he’s not coming back.” Younghyun says before uncapping the orange juice in his hands and taking a huge gulp of it, right from the carton.

 

  Now that it’s the two of them Minho feels significantly more uncomfortable, feeling his limbs press into his body in an unconscious attempt at making himself smaller. He fancies himself pretty comfortable around Younghyun, but apparently passing by him while he’s working at the store and watching him commit a sin in his own home are two very different situations.

 

  Minho’s anxiety only seems equipped to deal with one.

 

  He jumps when something wet hits the palm of his hand, and he looks down to see Mae nosing his hand. She shoves her massive head under his hand and stands close to him, the warmth from her body distracting him before his nerves get the best of him. He scratches her behind the ear in thanks.

 

  “Mph!” Younghyun makes a strange noise, and Minho looks up to see Younghyun with a mouthful of juice staring at his phone with wide eyes.

 

  “Are you okay?”

 

  “Fuck, sorry yeah. Jae just texted me, I gotta run. Will you tell Jisung I sanded the deck if he wants to keep going with it, but to back off from the right side, the foxes are back.”

 

  “Back?” Minho squeaks, watching Younghyun walk out of the room, attention on his phone.

 

  Minho wonders what he did in his previous life to deserve this.

 

  Mae huffs beside him, and Minho  crouches down to scratch behind her ears, pursing his lips and tilting his head away from her rough tongue when she tries to lick his face again. She catches the side of his head, styling his hair into a messy cowlick as he giggles. She pushes him over, and Minho sputters. He had never really interacted with dogs before, even though he always loved them. There was just no room for such a big animal, or at least that’s what his father would tell him.

 

  “Hey—Oh, Minho.”

 

  Minho looks up, leaning to the side so he can see past the mass of dark fur attacking him.

 

  Jisung stands in the doorway, looking caught off guard as he takes in the scene of Minho and Mae. He’s changed out of his work clothes into shorts and a hoodie that dwarfs him, and hangs loose around his neck. His hair is shoved out of his face, like he had rushed and raked his fingers through it in an attempt to hide that he had been sweating.

 

  “Hi,” Minho says as he stands up, fiddling with a stray string on his sleeve. “Uh, Younghyun told me to tell you that, uh, the foxes are back?”

 

  Jisung finally moves from the doorway, and Minho wonders if him being there is making Jisung uncomfortable. The boy seems more jumpy than usual, almost nervous.

 

  “Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me.”

 

  Jisung doesn’t seem keen on looking in Minho’s direction.

 

  A familiar prickle begins in Minho’s lower back, climbing up his spine and making him curl in on himself automatically. Maybe Jisung wants him to go, it would make sense. He had just gotten back from work, he probably wanted to relax.

 

  “Sorry, I should go,” Minho takes a step towards the door uncertainty. “Your house is really nice, your baby photos are… uh, cute. They’re really cute.”

 

 

   _Um, excuse me? What the fuck was_ that _Lee Minho?_

 

 

“You don’t have to go!” Jisung says, stumbling over his own words as he whips around to look at Minho. “I mean, you can stay, I don’t mind. I—I’m just making lunch, if you want some.”

 

   _He’s just saying that._

 

  The voice in Minho’s head hisses maliciously, but he tries his best to push it away. He wants to stay with Jisung, he enjoys the other boys company, there’s just something in the back of his head telling him he’s better off leaving. He wasn’t supposed to end up here in the first place.

 

  “Are you sure?” Is all Minho asks, hoping that if Jisung doesn’t mean it he’ll take the chance. But Jisung just smiles at him, lighting up the room in a way the sun never could.

 

  “Of course, here sit, I’ll make everything—Can you eat peanuts?”

  


  Jisung chatters on as he works, rolling his sleeves up every time they fall down.

 

  Minho listens dutifully from across the kitchen island, leg bobbing up and down as he watches Jisung unscrew the top of the peanut butter jar, lip caught between his teeth as he does so. There’s something interesting about watching people in an environment they’re completely comfortable in, seeing how they fall into a certain rhythm you won’t find anywhere else.

 

  Once, he thinks he remembers reading a theory of the universe. At first it had been boring, because most mumbo jumbo about the reality of our world _is_ boring. The book had given Minho a different perspective on things, though not all of them good. It was the idea that everything in the world is just in our imagination, that you create everything you see and know, and as soon as you turn around it all disappears. The main question of the book had been, where do these things go when we aren’t looking. If they go anywhere at all. Perhaps they just cease to be.

 

  Minho had found the idea interesting because of what it said about the imagination. He wonders still how impressive the human brain must be to create everything he sees in front of him. Even if it’s just Jisung reaching for the butter knife on the edge of the sink without having to glance over to know where it was.

 

  How amazing did his brain have to be to think up someone as amazing as Jisung?

 

  Minho knows he’s zoning out, head tilted to the side as he admires the way the sun reflects off Jisungs blonde hair, and shows the brown roots that poke out. There’s almost two centimeters of the color now.

 

  His leg bobs up and down, and he knows he’s biting at his thumb but he can’t help it. He hopes he doesn’t break the skin, as he had just noticed the other day that the wound on his finger had finally closed up.

 

  It was such a simple thing, but it had thrown Minho for a loop.

 

  “-are you okay?”

 

  Minho looks up, making eye contact with Jisung. He pulls his thumb out of his mouth and tucks it under the counter, hoping Jisung wasn’t watching him bite at it. God, wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

 

  “Yuh-Yeah, why do you ask?”

 

  Minho jumps when he hears a whine from Mae, and sees that the dog as decided to rest her head on his knee, keeping it from ticking any more. She licks at his finger, and Minho hesitates before petting her muzzle gently.

 

  “Well… Mae, she’s a service dog you know.”

 

  There’s a clink of a plate on the counter, and Minho sees that Jisung has placed a sandwich in front of him.

 

  Minho continues to pet Mae when he reaches for the sandwich, grateful for the distraction to pull him out of the tunnel that had become his thoughts.

 

  “A service dog?”

 

  “Yeah, she helps Dowoon with his anxiety.”

 

  Minho is just about to take a bite of the sandwich when Jisung says the word. Anxiety. It makes him stop, glancing down at Mae where she looks up at him with her wide brown eyes.

 

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry she just—She alerted me… The way she does with Dowoon so his friends know that he’s getting uncomfortable.”

 

  “Oh,” Is all Minho says, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

 

  He doesn’t look at Jisung for a while, worrying at his lower lip for a moment until Mae lets out a deep whine and nudges his hip with her muzzle.

 

  When he looks up at Jisung, he doesn’t see what he’s expecting. There’s no pity, no sickeningly sympathetic eyes like the woman at the front desk in Minho’s therapists office, and there’s no thin pressed lips like his mother when she sees the new band aid on Minho’s thumb. Jisung is just looking at him with the ghost of a smile, just a little lopsided.

 

  They don’t say anything as they look at each other, and Minho wonders if this is Jisung’s way of telling him he knows.

 

  “If you want more jelly or peanut butter just ask,” Jisung says suddenly, and the spell between their gaze is broken.

 

  “Thank you,” Minho says, in a softer voice than he plans before he bites into the sandwich.

 

  It the best PB and J he’s had in a long time.

  


  “Felix gave you all of our numbers right?” Jisung asks as he puts away the bread and jam. Minho has taken it upon himself to wash the dishes while Jisung isn’t looking, so he doesn’t feel too bad or like he’s being a leech.

    
“Oh, yeah. I haven’t gotten to putting them all in though.”

 

  Minho pulls his phone out of his back pocket, popping the case off and holding up the folded piece of paper Felix gave to him at the festival.

 

  “Oh, well, I can put mine in now if you want.” Jisung says over his shoulder, and Minho blinks in surprise.

 

  “Sure, yeah.”

 

  Jisung hops over and Minho hands the phone over to him. There’s no pass code, there’s nothing on it but pictures of him and Hyunjin and three phone numbers. His parents, and Hyunjins. He knows them all by memory, and all the pictures are backed up to his computer.

 

  He’s starting to think that he could use a password though.

 

  Minho continues to wash the dishes once Jisung takes the phone, finding it a bit strange when there’s no sound coming from behind him. Not even the clicking of the phone’s keyboard.

 

  “So how is Hyunjin?” Jisung asks suddenly, and Minho is confused for a moment until he remembers that Hyunjin changed the wallpapers to his phone when he came down for the weekend.

 

  “Oh he’s good, he should be coming up again in a week or so.” Minho says as he scrubs the last plate, more to keep his hands busy than to actually clean it.

 

  “How long have you and Hyunjin been dating?”

 

  Minho drops the plate he’s holding into the sink, soap water splashing up as he whips around to stare at Jisung.

 

  Jisung isn’t looking at him, just opening up the Contacts app and pressing the button that will add him into Minho’s phone. He looks nonchalant, though Minho thinks there might be a hint of color on his cheeks.

 

_“What?”_

 

  Jisung glances up at him, and shrugs. Minho completely misses the twinge of bitterness in the other boys voice as he talks. “You have him as your wallpapers, I asked you the other day and you said you’d know each other for a few years. I was just wondering how long you’ve been dating.”

 

  Minho’s can’t wrap his head around the thought of him and Hyunjin, together of all things. Had Jisung thought that—How long had he assumed Minho and Hyunjin had been together? The thought makes Minho want to gag, he and Hyunjin are like brothers.

 

  “Oh my god, no, ew, please I did not need that image in my head.” Minho shudders, catching Jisung’s confused gaze. “Hyunjin and I are best friends, I couldn’t image dating him, like ever.”

 

  “Oh shit, I uh, I guess I just assumed—”

 

  “I mean we’re close, Hyunjin is an amazing friend, but I’m not—That’s not—”

 

  Minho trips over his own words, holding his hands up and shaking them to try and show what he can’t seem to say. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. That he’s not dating Hyunjin? Yes. That he could never think of a boy like that? Um… That is to be decided.

 

  He’s never thought about it before, not really. Sure, he’s done things, but those were all dares. Drunk decisions in a desperate attempt to make his parents look at him and ask him what was wrong when they got home instead of just walking past him. That was almost a year ago though, and every time it had meant nothing to him, boy or girl.

 

  Jisung was asking him though, so that had to mean something. Right?

 

 _You’re getting ahead of yourself again._ The voice hisses into Minho’s ear, and he can’t help but listen to it even as he watches Jisung put his name into Minho’s phone. Minho swallows around the lump in his throat, and takes his phone back from a sheepish Jisung. The boys cheeks stained red and eyes looking everywhere but Minho.

 

   _He doesn’t like you, you’re barely friends. He makes you one sandwich to be polite and look at you. Pathetic._

 

He looks down and sees that Jisung sent a text to his own phone. A single emoji of a letter with a heart on it, it’s strange because Minho never uses emojis, but also cute. Especially when he receives one right back from Jisung on his own phone.

 

  “There, now we can talk.”

 

  Minho smiles fondly, even with the thoughts bouncing around in his head. Because Jisung put his contact name in as _Sungie_ , and Minho finds it adorable.

 

  “I don’t text much,” Minho admits, not wanting Jisung to think that Minho is ever ignoring him. Saying it leaves him out of breath. “I just take a while, and, I’m not good with slang, or emoji’s, and Hyunjin says that I’m bad at text talk—”

 

  “Don’t worry Minho,” Jisung grins, his mood seeming inexplicably brighter now that it had ten minutes before. “I just want to talk with you comfortably. Take as much time as you need.”

 

  Minho’s words get caught in his throat as he stares at Jisung, eyes widening a fraction when the clouds shift and unbroken sunlight streams through the large window about the sink. The whole room lights up, but the only thing Minho sees is Jisung.

 

_I just want to talk with you._

 

_Ba-Dump._

 

  Minho’s heart skips a beat, and he feels faint the next time he opens his mouth.

 

 “I should go,” He says, voice coming out airy and weak. It doesn’t seem to affect Jisung though. “Aunt Yoo gets out of work soon, she wants to have a movie night.”

 

  “Okay,” Jisung nods, a soft smile on his face as he hesitates. “If you ever want to come over again, you know... Hang out with Mae or whatever, you can drop by.”

 

  Minho looks over at the old dog bed that can be seen from the kitchen, where Mae is thumping her tail against the hardwood floor. Minho resists the urge to coo at her when he sees she’s outgrown the bed by a good few years, almost twice its size.

 

  “I’d like that.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  Minho opens his phone late that night after a quick succession of vibrations. Until now, there’s only been one person who regularly texts him, so he’s surprised to see Jisung’s ID on the screen when he opens the phone.

 

     SUNGIE 19:26

Hey!! Sorry I knwo it’s late

know*

But i was wndering if u wanna go surfing?

I’d totally teach u

I swear it’s fun!!!!

I won’t let u drown

Pinkie swear <3

 

  The room seems far more humid when Minho finishes the message, and he presses his hand to his cheek, to find that they’re both warm to the touch.

 

  He types out an answer after a lot of thought, not so much on his answer but rather how to say it. He knows if he just goes with his first instinct, his lackluster ‘Sure.’ could be off putting to Jisung, who seems obviously excited by the prospect of getting Minho into the ocean for the first time since he arrived.

 

     > 19:48

If you promise to not let me drown

I’ll give it a try

:)

 

  Minho puts the smiley face as an afterthought, hoping Jisung won’t find it strange.

 

  The string of excited—well, they look excited—emoji’s that follow his answer almost seconds later have him smiling fondly at his phone, like a complete fool.

 

_Ba-dump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am v tired and don't like the end to this chapter but o well
> 
> the fun has begun. i can't wait to start revealing all the islands secrets 
> 
> comments/kudos appreciated


	8. foundations of sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS***  
> oof um,,,,, big sads coming lads  
> I nay have cried while writing this so,,,, have fun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry :')

  The surface of the window is cold against Minho’s forehead as he drifts between sleep and being awake. Droplets trickle down the glass, and if Minho hadn’t lost interest in them a long time ago at the beginning of the train ride, he would have pretended it was a race. The grey of the sky has weighed down on his mind though, and he wishes he could just sleep through the rest of the trip home.

 

  Minho can still hear the rumble of the train past the sound of the music filtering through his earbuds, and he wraps his arms tighter around himself as he zones out. He wonders if his bedroom still looks the same, or if his parents had put a maid to it as soon as he left.

 

  It’s almost noon, but his parents insisted he be home before dinner. So he was on the train to Seoul by six in the morning, missing the warmth of Aunt Yoo’s rust bucket of a car as soon as he stepped out.

 

  The train smells like the city, cold and with an acrid tang that Minho had forgotten about since he had been gone. He had grown used to the sweet smell of sand outside his window and the warmth that came from the crackle of Aunt Yoo’s candles.

 

  It hasn’t even been half a day and he already misses it so bad.

 

  His phone buzzes in his  pocket, but Minho can’t be bothered to answer it. Worst case scenario is that it’s his parents, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to interact with them. Not yet.

 

  The train reaches the station all to soon, and Minho walks out with his hat pulled so far down his eyes are barely visible, hands shoved deep into his hoodie. He looks like a shadow as he steps off the tracks, but his shoulders are held straight and he walks out of the station. There’s no luggage to weigh him down when he steps out onto the rain slicked street and searches for a taxi to hail and take him home.

 

  Almost a month gone but he falls back into the brand name city life all too easy, though the constant noise from the cars and people is giving him a headache already.

 

  “Cheongdam, please.” Minho says once he hails a taxi, catching the odd look the driver gives him before nodding and beginning to drive.

 

  He knows it’s because no one takes a taxi to neighborhoods like that, not in Gangnam. Even Minho has his own personal driver, separate from his parents. He didn’t feel like dragging the man away from his family so late though, even when it would be nice to see a familiar face to talk with before he had to face his parents fresh off work.

 

  Minho pulls his phone out of his pocket, almost holding his breath when he presses his thumb down on the home button to look at the text.

 

    AUNTIE YOO 17:47

Have a safe trip sweetie

I’ll miss you

It’s only two days though

We can go out to Chan’s for lunch when you get back

 

 

    > 18:34

I’ll try my best

See you when i get back

 

  Minho slides his phone back into his pocket with a faint smile, hoping that two days won’t feel like a million years. With his parents though, it just might.

 

  Two days, though by now it's more like a day and a half, isn't it.

 

  Two days and he’s back to his room at Aunt Yoo’s, the rush of the water outside of his window, his first day of work with Chan the day after he gets back, and surfing with Jisung right after. Minho finally has something to look forward to, something he’s excited about. He knows it’s going to make the weekend home even more unbearable as ever second feels like a minute and every minute, hours.

 

  Minho knows it’s his fault he’s going home in the first place. If he hadn’t fucked up Aunt Yoo wouldn’t have had to call them, and his parents wouldn’t have freaked out and demanded that he come home.

 

  He would have been devastated if they made him come home for good. Thankfully, Aunt Yoo managed to calm them through their screams. The gentle whisper in a tumult of booming voices.

 

  Minho had been fine, until all the sudden he wasn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

  It was a few mornings after agreeing to surf with Jisung that the nausea hit him. Headaches that came and went like the tide, long but sudden. He didn’t think much of it, until he dropped his mug one morning, sending it to the ground to shatter in a million pieces. It nearly gave Aunt Yoo a heart attack, the way Minho just stood there staring down at the cup like he had kicked a puppy, a look of pure despair in his eyes.

 

  “I’m sor-sorry,” He stammered, almost unaware of the tears streaming down his face as he fought through the sudden wave of emotions that crashed through him.

 

   “Minho, what’s wrong. Sweetie, talk to me please,” Yoo pleaded with him, holding his face in her hands and wiping away his tears as he sucked in panicked breaths, each one catching in his throat as he tried to blink away the tears that blurred his vision.

 

  He didn’t know what to tell her, he couldn’t catch his breath long enough to form the words he needed.

 

  It took a long time for Minho to stop crying, but even then he was exhausted mentally and physically. He ended up bundled in almost too many blankets on the couch, Aunt Yoo out on the porch on the phone . He knew she was watching him through the glass, glancing back every so often. She hadn’t wanted to leave, but the continuous buzzing from her phone had dragged her away, and even Minho could hear his mother yelling through the phone.

 

  Aunt Yoo must have told them what happened to him.

 

  There was an empty feeling in Minho’s chest, like a black hole dragging everything in to it and leaving a barren wasteland. All he could do was will himself to sleep through the ghostly pain, and hope that it went away.

 

  He couldn’t escape all of his problems though. He had to wake up eventually.

 

 “Why did you stop taking your medication, Minho”

 

  Aunt Yoo asked him as soon as he was relatively stable, and had taken one of his pills with his orange juice. He couldn’t keep down much more than a piece of bread with the way his stomach was turning, and the smell of the eggs Yoo made for him made him gag uncontrollably. 

 

  “I don’t know.” Minho said truthfully, his throat scratchy and voice thick. He couldn’t look Yoo in the eyes.

 

  He was afraid of what he would see.

 

 “Minho, you can’t _do_ that.” Aunt Yoo said, her voice barely holding back all the emotions she must have been feeling in the moment. “You have these so you can be you, and you know that. I just want to know why you stopped, please. If you don’t tell me…”

 

  They both waited in tense silence, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

 

  “If you don’t tell me why you stopped taking them, I can’t keep them from sending you home early, Minho. Your parents are already freaking out, they want you on the next train home.”

 

  It was like the mug breaking all over again.

 

  “I didn’t mean... Didn't mean to.” Minho’s voice broke, and he held his face in his hands as he breathed through the tears that threatened to spill over. “I swear I didn't notice—I just forgot once, maybe twice. I felt fine, I was… I was happy .”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  “Sir, we’ve arrived.”

 

  The taxi driver knocks on the partition between the front and back of the car, and Minho pulls the cash out of his wallet to pay him.

 

  “Keep the change.” Minho says as he steps out, knowing he probably gave the man way too much money. He doesn’t really care, not when it’s his parents money. They won’t even miss it.

 

 The walk to his building is longer than he remembers with the twists and turns through the buildings, having to weave through creeping cars as he crosses the road. It’s still all too soon though that Minho finds himself at the front steps, avoiding eye contact with everyone in front of the building. People like to gawk at buildings like his own, though whether because of their height or the architecture Minho will never really know.

 

  “Excuse me, but you need an ID—Oh, Mr. Lee. My apologies, we didn’t realize you would be arriving so late. There was supposed to be a car sent for you—”

 

  “I know Minhyuk,” Minho says as he pulls his hood down, the tips of his hair soaked with the light rain that had started halfway through his taxi ride. “I won’t tell my parents if you don’t.”

 

  Minhyuk visibly relaxes at that, and smiles at Minho. The man had always been kind to him, as he seemed to recognize that Minho was just a little bit alone in the huge building. He would always ask how Minho’s day was when he got home from school, ask him if he was still taking dance lessons—until he stopped of course.

 

  “It’s good to see you back, Sir.” Minhyuk says before bowing.

 

  They would probably talk more, at least Minho would like to, but there’s the sound of the doors spinning open and the screeching voice of a woman complaining about her baggage, so Minhyuk has to hurry along to help her out.

 

  Minho finds his way to the elevator easily, not that he was expecting to have trouble. Everything is the same as he left it, though it does looks bigger. Cleaner than most things on the island. It’s stifling though, the way everything feels so artificial and cold. Minho never felt like he _belonged_ here, but before the island he at least felt like he could try to fit in. Now, he's not so sure he wants to.

 

  Now, he feels like he’s a puzzle piece looking at the finished product in front of him, with nowhere for him to go.

 

  Thinking about it gives him a headache, and Minho punches in the code to his floor and presses the button so fast he almost has to do it again.

 

  The elevator has a huge glass panel facing the street, and Minho sucks in an anxious breath when he averts his eyes from the sight. He has to resist the urge to squeeze them shut, knowing that doing so will make him sick from the motion of the lift.

 

  He hates the ride up far more than down though.

 

  The top floor of the building is silent when the elevator doors open, and Minho cringes at the ugly +sound his wet soles make against the marble floors. He hates the quiet, but the squelching of his shoes is even worse. He wishes the hall had a mat he could wipe them off on, like Aunt Yoo did at their house. His mother wouldn’t allow it though, she liked showing off their floors, said you could see your reflection in them.

 

  Minho slides his shoes off at the front door, putting in the code again once he sets his sneakers on the rack outside. His mother's wedges and his father's work shoes are missing, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

 

  They insist he come home, but they don’t even make the effort to be there when he arrives. Figures.

 

  The apartment is dark, and Minho sees that nothing has changed since he left. The window that spans the length of the wall is spotless, and allows Minho to see the expanse of the city as the sun begins to set already, casting long shadows across the cold marble floors. Minho wishes it was his window back in his room at the island, so he could feel the ocean breeze against his face and wait for Soonie to come along and chirrup at him until he pulled her into his lap so she could nap. Instead the air is stagnant, and stale.

 

 He wasn’t even at the island, and he was dreading the day he would have to leave it for good.

 

  Minho’s room is, surprisingly, the same as he left it. Right down to the hastily made comforter and the pajama pants he had shoved underneath his bed right before he left in the beginning of summer.

 

  The familiar space comforts him though.

 

  Minho changes out of his rain soaked clothes into some pajamas, choosing the softest shorts he owns and one of his hoodies that’s lined with fleece. Because there’s nothing more that he wants to do than sleep through the entire weekend, avoid the confrontation that is sure to happen as soon as his parents get home.

 

  He spends about an hour in the stale comfort of his bed, curled up in his duvet and scrolling through his camera roll. He dreads the moment he hears the alarm system announce his parents arrival to their floor.

 

  There’s a pass code on his phone now. He created it almost as soon as he left Jisung’s house; not entirely sure why he did so. His phone had never held anything on it that he felt was important enough to keep safe, and if he lost it or it broke he could easily buy another one. Yet all the sudden he didn’t want to lose it. Didn’t want to lose Jisung’s phone number, Chan’s, Felix’s, Jeongin’s. 

 

  Minho had slowly started texting with them all after a gentle nudge from both Jisung and Hyunjin separately. Some conversations lasted longer than others, but Minho thinks that it’s because Chan and Woojin and him are in a group chat now, so he only has to talk one third of the time. And Felix could make anything interesting.

 

 And Jisung? Jisung is lovely to talk to.

 

  At some point Minho finds himself looking through his and Jisung’s conversations, his screen brightness low as his room slowly loses the light of day and the white screen becomes too bright.

 

  Jisung uses lots of emojis, and misspells every other word, but he’s charming.

 

  Minho looks forward to every text he receives from Jisung.

 

    SUNGIE, Thursday 12:24

omg younghyun brought suhsi home for lunch

sushi*

i love sushi

would i die for sushi??? maybe

 

    > Thursday 12:32

If you die for sushi we can’t go surfing

 

    SUNGIE, Thursday 12:33

:((((( no fair

you’re worth missing out on sushi tho!!

 

 

  The last message had left Minho bright red for the rest of the day, flushing even more every time he thought about it.

 

  Jisung seems to have a knack for leaving Minho flustered.

 

  The kitchen is mostly empty counter tops and the occasional plant that their maid will water to make the house seem more ‘lived in’. It’s nothing like Yoo’s though, which always has some kind of dish of fresh baked pastries (though not always edible) on it that Yoo attempted, and has a whole bowl full of fruit they use for breakfast. There’s even a small planter of different herbs on the windowsill.

 

  Minho has to drag out the old kettle his mother had packed up years ago out of the storage closet. His father has people bring him coffee, and his mother refuses to drink anything that isn’t recommended by her personal dietitian, so kettle has been there for a good while.

 

  He’s amazed they even have milk in the fridge, though he isn’t surprised when he sees it’s a few days short of going bad. Oh well, you only live once.

 

  The cold from the floor seeps through his socks, causing Minho to curl in on himself as he pours his tea. The sound of him setting his mug down is deafening in the silence of the apartment, and Minho is afraid to breathe too loud for fear of disrupting the emptiness of the space. After a while of being away, it’s almost suffocating to stand alone in the huge room.

 

  The alarm system beeps though, and Minho feels a familiar blanket of dread come over him when he hears his parents voices fill the space, arguing as usual.

 

  “—I swear I’ll fire that boy before the week is up, completely incompetent.”

 

  His father walks through the front hall into the room, eyes trained on his phone and his shoes still on. Minho knows his mother won’t be happy about _that._

 

  “You can’t fire him dear, he doesn’t work for you.” His mother says in an exasperated tone, turning the corner just as she pulls her hair out of her bun so it falls down into a loose ponytail. Needless to say Minho is surprised, she rarely takes her hair down so soon after arriving home.

 

  For a moment he thinks they don’t notice him in the shadows of the kitchen, as he hadn’t bothered putting on any lights other than the one over the stove. But then his mother turns around and smiles at him, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. When has it ever. 

 

  “Minho. How have you been?”

 

  Minho presses his lips together in a faint smile, “Hi mom, dad. I’m okay.”

 

  His mother walks over, hands on his shoulders as she looks him over with a disapproving expression. “You’re tanning, hm. You shouldn’t go out into the sun too much, it’s not good for you.”

 

  “Yes, mom.”

 

  His mother pouts and runs her fingers through his hair once comfortingly, but that’s the extent of physical affection she’ll ever show to him. On some level it hurts, but again, years passing have left the pain to be nothing but a dull ache. He can appreciate the thought from her anyways.

 

  “Has that woman been treating you okay?”

 

  Minho tries not to frown at his father’s way of referring to Aunt Yoo, but he does anyways as he nods. He doesn’t feel like arguing tonight.

 

  “Yeah, she’s lovely.” Minho insists, almost passive aggressively, turning away from his mother to put his mug in the sink. “The island is too, you guys should come.”

 

  He knows his parents would never take the day off to come all the way to some southern island, but it’s always nice to offer, isn’t it?

 

  “Maybe we will.”

 

  Lies. But they’ll humor him.

 

  “We brought dinner home, are you hungry?”

 

  His father closes off the conversation before it’s even begun, hauling the bag of still-hot food to the table. There’s no room for discussion in his question, though Minho notices he’s gotten better at making it seem like you have a choice in the matter.

 

 

 

  Dinner, to put it in the most simple terminology Minho can manage, is fucking awful.

 

  The food is great, probably from that restaurant Minho can never remember the name of, the one with the three Michelin stars that his mother loves. Or at least says she does. There’s just something cold about the food though, even though it’s still hot and made to perfection.

 

  Minho could really go for some scrambled eggs right now.

 

  For a while it’s just the sound of chewing and their chopsticks against the plates his mother pulled out, and occasionally a glass being set down on the coasters his mother had a fit about until everyone started using them regularly.

 

  “So Minho, have you made any friends over there?”

 

  His mother asks, and Minho pretends he doesn’t see the scolding gaze she gives his father when she catches him with his phone out.

 

  “Yeah, a few.”

 

  His father makes a noise as if he wants to say something, but his mother interrupts him again.

 

  “There’s Woojin and Chan. They’re my age. I’m not too close with them yet but they’ve been really kind to me.”

 

  Minho talks slowly as he mentions all of his newfound friends, as if every word is him taking another step further onto a sheet of ice when he doesn’t know how deep the water goes underneath. He knows his parents want him to make friends, but he doesn't think they'd like it if they found how close he was getting with some of the boys. 

 

  “Felix is Chan’s cousin, and super energetic, but in a good way. Seungmin is nerdy, but cool.”

 

  And Jisung. Jisung is wonderful. _Amazing_. He makes Minho’s heart race, makes him want to get up in the morning so he can see him and hear Jisung laugh, and Minho is in so fucking deep. But he can’t tell his parents that, because that’s one step too far, and he’s not ready to fall through the ice just yet. 

 

  “That’s amazing, we’re very happy for you Minho.”

 

  An awkward silence falls over the table, and a pit begins to form in Minho's stomach when he sees the look his parents share with one another before turning to look at him across the table. Minho knows he’s fucked as soon as his mother sets her hands on the table with her fingers laced together, and his dad clears his throat.

 

  “Look, son.”

 

  Oh god, his dad is pulling out the _son_ card.

 

  “The two of us were talking, have been talking, and we think it’s best if you don’t go back to stay with your aunt.”

 

  The most disappointing part of the whole situation is that Minho isn’t surprised in the slightest. He stares down at his plate, still piled on with expensive food that looks completely unappetizing now. The nausea from his medication hasn’t completely worn off, and all the sudden it’s back with a vengeance.

 

  “We just would feel better if you were here, so we could keep an eye on you.”

 

  “How?” Minho spits out, though there’s no real venom in his voice. He can’t muster up the energy for it, not when every ounce he has is going towards keeping him from clamming up and going along with what his parents want him to do. “How are you going to _keep an eye_ on me?”

 

  Neither of them say anything for a while, but as soon as his father opens up his mouth to speak Minho scoffs. He can feel the resentment and anger building up in his chest, aching to be released. He wants to scream at his parents, wants to throw his plate across the room and bring his fists down on the table as hard as he can, because he has to get rid of the energy somehow but he can’t think because he’s so _angry._ It’s like a kettle about to boil over, red hot and ready to burn anything too close to him.

 

  But then it stops.

 

  Minho’s shoulders had grown stiff, but the tension bleeds out of them as he clenches his hand into a fist, refusing to look at his parents as he talks.

 

  “You two are never home. So what are you going to do, hire me another _nanny_ ?" Minho hears his mother take a sharp breath, and he can practically feel the angry stare from his father. "With all due respect, I’m not staying in this apartment for the rest of the summer and going back to _that_.” 

 

  He’s never stood up to them before, and he barely has the courage to do it, but he can't stop now.

 

  “You want me home for the weekend to see how I’m doing? Fine. But you don’t get to act like nothing's wrong with me all of the sudden, none of us do. That’s not how this _works_ , even if we wished it did. I’m happy _there_ , not here. So don’t make me stay.”

 

  Minho stands up suddenly, eyes downcast as he picks up his dinner plate. He feels a lump in his throat as he talks, his hands trembling.

 

  “If I could please be excused” He says and walks past his parents without waiting for an answer, every ounce of confidence leaving him as soon as he stopped talking. He doesn’t want to look at them, and hopes with every ounce of his being that they won’t make him stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  _"It’s okay to be angry at your parents, Minho."_

 

The woman his parents hired to talk to him said that during their second session together.

 

  “They’re not bad parents though,” Minho had said, arms wrapped around himself in a tight hug. His voice was almost inaudible, even in the quiet of his therapists office. “They love me.”

 

  “I never said that, and I know they do. Generally kids don’t end up in my office if their parents don’t love them more than the whole world.”

 

  She kept using that word though, here and there. Neglect. Emotional neglect. He hated it, because it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be, and he hated the feeling of realization that came over him when she had explained exactly what that meant.

 

  “Your parents clearly love you Minho, they just aren’t too sure how to show it outside of a material world. It’s not their fault either, there’s a number of ways for these things to happen. Do you understand?”

 

  Minho didn’t answer verbally, he rarely ever did back then. But yes, he did think he understood what she was saying.

 

  “Your brain never figured out how to properly work through your emotions as a child, so it does the safest thing your subconscious can think of and shuts everything off to keep you safe. So, when things turn on again, it’s very easy for you to become overwhelmed. Hence your heightened anxiety. You just need to know that it’s not your fault.”

 

  His parents had been pissed when She told them what She thought was ‘going on’ with Minho. And they were absolutely livid when she recommended he go to a family member who could be more present for him, at least for the summer.  

 

  They fought for days with one another late into the night, and cancelled all future appointments with her. Minho hadn’t been surprised in the slightest.

 

  He still isn’t sure what changed their minds at the time.

 

 

 

 

  Minho shuts his bedroom door as softly as he can, pressing his back up against it as soon as its closed and releasing a long breath. His body feels weak, like it had channeled all of his energy into his words. He just wants to crawl into bed, fall asleep. Maybe for a millennia.

 

  His first instinct is to call Hyunjin, to listen to his friend talk about his day so Minho can take his mind off of his parents in the other room.

 

  Just as he’s about to open up the app though, a text message buzzes in, and Minho looks to see he’s received seven messages from Jisung since he left his phone before his parents got home. Four text messages and three pictures.

 

 

    SUNGIE 19:47

mae misses u!

she dragged me through the sand today

    > image_attachment.jpg

how are u?

auntie said u were gonna be mia for a while

    > image_attachment.jpg

    > image_attachment.jpg

 

  The first picture is of Jisung making a face at the camera, the pic taken by someone else—Minho assumes Younghyun by the way Jisung scowls. Jisung’s hair and face are covered in sand, sticking to his skin and leaving red marks where he must have tried to rub it off with his hands. Minho smiles at the sight, and the fact that Jisung decided to send him the picture.

 

  He totally doesn’t save it to his phone.

 

  The second is of Mae in the ocean, her front paws up as she jumps through the air with a huge burst of water.

 

  The third is one Jisung took himself. He’s sitting on the beach alone, head leaning against his hand as he pouts. The angle accentuates Jisung’s lips and his round cheeks. He looks lonely, and Minho feels bad when he sees the outline of Yoo’s house through the trees in the background of the picture.

 

  Had Jisung gone over with Mae looking to hang out with him?

 

  Minho tries to hide his smile, even though there’s no one in the room to see it.

 

    > 20:19

I miss her too, 

And I’m good, just visiting my parents

Are you okay?

 

  Minho hesitates a moment before pushing the blinds open to his room and taking a picture of the view through the window, frowning in disappointment when the city lights look dull through his phone’s camera. He takes the picture anyways and switches the camera so he can take a picture of himself in his room, even though he knows he’ll look awkward. He always does.

 

     > 20:25

     > image_attachment.jpg

     > image_attachment.jpg

The picture ruins the quality, sorry

 

    SUNGIE 20:27

no!!! It’s so pretty!

u look so comfy

but tried

tired*

u sure ur good?

 

    > 20:30

Yeah, it was a long train ride up

Don’t worry about me Sungie

 

    SUNGIE 20:31

skdjgksfg

sorry one sec

u look good city boy

very nice

 

  Minho tilts his head curiously at the screen, wondering why Jisung ‘keysmashed’. Hyunjin explained the concept to him once or twice, he never really understood it though.

 

  He rolls onto his side and watches the speech bubble form at the bottom of the screen with a fond smile. His heart jumping every time he feels his phone vibrate in his hands. He texts Hyunjin a few times as well, seeing as Hyunjin knew he was going home for the weekend and wanted to make sure Minho was okay. Most of his attention is on Jisung’s texts though.

 

    HYUNJINNN 00:23

don’t stay up all night lover boy

your parents will let you go back

i’m sure of it

 

  Hyunjin stops texting him around half past midnight, Minho doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

 

  All he knows is that when he wakes up he has a message from Jisung waiting for him.

 

 

 

 

    SUNGIE 04:23

i'm assuming u fell asllep

asleep**

i'll see you in a day

no longer or ill beat ur ass

night minho!!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet  
> sry it was short  
> also it was a quick update ik but im sick so i had the whole day to write lol enjoy
> 
> comments/kudos appreciated


	9. distance of soul

  That morning, Minho woke up in a cold sweat as a jet broke through the silence of the apartment, or at least as silent as the city could get when it’s four am and everyone is beginning to go to work. He had barely three hours of sleep, but couldn’t manage to get comfortable again. So he did the next best thing.

 

  It took him a moment to remember that he didn’t have to worry about saving water, but by the end of his shower Minho’s skin was tinted pink and steaming, the bathroom filled with steam from the heat by the time he stepped out. There’s something therapeutic about standing underneath water with actual pressure that is just hot enough to feel like you could melt, but not enough to hurt. Even if he walks out looking like a cherry—He feels like Seungmin would be proud.

 

  Minho spends most of the morning with his eyes looking everywhere but the window that spans the wall of the apartment, unwilling to look out over the city-scape for fear of the same dizzying nausea that always came over him when he got up too high. He used to have the remote that would close the sun shades, but he doesn’t feel like sitting in the dark anymore.

 

  He and his parents mostly avoided each other the morning after Minho’s outburst the previous night, though Minho wouldn't call it ‘avoiding’ so much as ‘going about life as if everything were normal’. Per usual. 

 

  His father was called out for an emergency at work just a few hours ago, which meant him being up at seven to get on a jet to London to fix whatever was happening with the company. Minho doesn’t think a cup of tea has ever been made in such awkward circumstances before. It was even worse when Minho pulled out his meds in front of his father, as he had been trying to make taking them with his tea in the morning to build up a habit.

 

  His father didn’t seem outwardly upset with Minho, they just both seemed to silently agree not speaking was better for both of them.

 

  Neither had enough caffeine in their systems for _that_ talk.

 

 Minho was awake until around three texting Jisung, though he doesn't feel the lack of sleep weighing on him as much as he thought it would. Even now he’s hoping the boy will message him again, because every time Minho types something out, he can’t seem to convince himself to press send. The night, well, morning is still young though, so he figures Jisung might just still be asleep. 

 

  Lunch alone with his mother was probably the most awkward, because as much as she tried to keep a conversation going between the two of them it just kept fizzling out. Minho didn’t miss the way she kept glancing at her phone, the screen lighting up every so often with emails and messages and calls. She had come home to eat, which had surprised Minho, but she still seemed to mentally be in two places at once.

 

  “You can take those mom,” Minho said, glancing between his mother and the phone. “Seriously, I know work is important.”

 

  “You’re important too Minho, we _never_ eat like a family.”

 

  His mother's voice sounded strained, and Minho didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see how hard his mother was trying to prove him wrong. To show him that she could be present. It just wasn’t working.

 

  “Mom, I understand. Just take the call.” Minho pressed his lips together, and they both waited in bated silence until the phone began to buzz again, and this time his mother picked up. Her expression was a mix between disappointment and guilt, but it quickly morphed back to her usual steely exterior as she began talking to whoever was on the other side of the line.

 

  “Yes, Kim I understand, God slow down please.” His mother stood up from the table not long after taking the call, disappearing into her office.

 

  Minho took it upon himself to clean up, rolling his sleeves up to wash the dishes by hand so they wouldn’t waste a load in the dishwasher for two plates.

 

  He tried to ignore the sight of his mother from her office through the crack in her door when she hung up the phone. She set it down carefully, lower lip caught between her teeth as she pinched the bridge of her nose and hid her face in her hands, taking a few deep breaths before packing up her things to go back to work, almost avoiding Minho's gaze as she tucked her hair back into her perfect ponytail.

 

  Maybe they all wished they could be a normal family for at least one day.

 

  “Minhyuk will call your driver to take you out whenever you'd like, if you'd like to.” His mother says just as she walks out the front door, eyes on her watch as she speak into her cell phone, tucked between her cheek and her shoulder.

 

  She pat Minho on the back of his head before she left, but the movement was stilted, too calculated to be natural.

 

  And then he was alone again.

 

  Minho was fine with being alone, he liked time to himself. He just didn’t want to spend it in the apartment.

 

  The ratio of his closet to his room isn’t much of a difference, but Minho doesn’t use most of it. He slips on one of his thinner sweaters, one that’s been broken in so much that there are a few places by the hem where he’s worn the fabric almost bare with his insistent rubbing. When chewing on his thumb wasn’t appropriate and people would stare if he started tapping his shoe on the ground. It fits him well though, and he likes how it rest on his shoulders, like he’s one of those guys on the covers of magazines flashing toned biceps.

 

  Okay maybe not that much. It’s also just really comfy.

 

  Minho keeps his head down when he gets into the elevator, avoiding looking out the window and ignoring how his legs get weak when he catches a glimpse of the blue sky outside.

 

  “Mr. Lee, are you looking to go out to lunch so soon?” Minhyuk asks when he catches sight of Minho, the front desks’ phone already in hand as he dials Minho’s drivers number.

 

  “Not lunch, I’m going to go for a walk.” Minho says slowly, thinking about it for a moment before nodding and looking back up at Minhyuk. “Just a walk.”

 

  “Your car will be here in a moment, Mr. Lee.”

 

  “Minhyuk, could you call me Minho please?” Minho asks, after a moment of hesitation.

 

  Minhyuk looks surprised briefly, and Minho can understand why. He doesn’t think he’d said any more than a monosyllabic response to Minhyuk since the day he and his parents moved into the complex when Minho was a little younger than ten. Minhyuk had still always been kind to him, asked him about his day even when all Minho would respond with was a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, or a well timed sigh.

 

  “Of course Minho, and if I might say, you’re looking much better since you’ve come back.”

 

  “Thank you,” Minho says softly, and feels a familiar buzz in his pocket to signal his driver has arrived. “Have a good day Minhyuk.”

 

  “You too—You too Minho.”

 

  There’s a bodyguard waiting by the huge black car when Minho walks up, and his cheeks flush from more than just the cold when he feels the stares of people who are walking down the street as he climbs into the back of the car. He hates the attention, but he never can manage to escape it, can he.

 

  “Where to today, sir?” The driver asks through the partition.

 

  “Han River, please,” Minho says, watching as the driver nods and closes the partition halfway to give him more privacy.

 

  The interior of the car is all tan leather, soft and cool to the touch when Minho slides into his seat. The bodyguard sits in the front with the driver, and Minho notices they’re the same one his parents always employ. He thinks it’s because the guy is so muscular, because there’s never been an instance where Minho was able to gauge the mans’ skills, so that’s what he assumes at least.

 

  “The weather is nice today.” Minho says slowly, eyes trained on the window beside him, where the skies are still dark and cloudy, but not in a bad way.

 

  He tries to talk with the two men, though Minho isn’t really sure whether he’s doing a good job or not. The two seem surprised if anything, but Minho had realized when he first spoke to Minhyuk when he got back, he knew extremely little about the people who had surrounded him for most of his life. He barely knew anything about Minhyuk besides his name and his occupation, he didn’t even know his drivers name. Minho knew his phone number for when he would message Minho of his arrival, but that was it.

 

  So he tries. 

 

  He learns that the drivers name is Kihyun, and while Minho had assumed the man had a family, he learns that Kihyun is actually quite young still. He lives with a younger roommate, and is still going to college, and that driving Minho is a side job to bring in more money. Minho isn't sure whether that new information is embarrassing on his end or not. 

 

   Hyunwoo is the bodyguard, and though he looks a little intimidating, Minho finds that both him and Kihyun look comfortable around each other. It makes sense, they’ve been working together for years.

 

  “Would you like me to wait for you, Minho?” Kihyun asks, almost leaning over Hyunwoo to talk to him through the partition window.

 

  It took a good twenty minutes to convince Hyunwoo to let him take a walk on his own, Kihyun seemed the most spooked about the idea though.

 

  “I won’t be out for long, you guys can go and get lunch if you’d like. I'll pay you back for whatever you spend.” Minho doesn’t want to toss money around like it’s nothing, but he’d like the two of them to have some time to relax. He knows that most of the nerves is the fear of being found out by Minho’s parents, but he told Minhyuk on his first night as well.

 

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

 

  

 

  The park by Han River is full of people, but Minho knows where he wants to go. His face screws up as a strong gust of wind causes his hair to whip through the air and into his face. He pulls the baseball cap he brought along over it in an attempt to calm his hair, but it only helps a little bit. There’s a slight chill in the air so close to the water, and even though it’s warmer in the city than on the island Minho’s skin is riddled with goosebumps. He wishes he was able to adapt better to these kinds of things.

 

  Minho picks his way to the edge of the river, or as close as he can manage.

 

  He stands with his toes just shy of the edge for a few moments, looking down into the water with a faint frown before crouching and searching for what he needs.

 

   _Whenever I start to think too much, it helps._

 

Minho tosses the stone in the air a few times, running his thumb over the coarse but flat surface once or twice. He knows he won’t magically be better at it just because he wants to be, but he wonders if it would help to just try.

 

  He winds his arm back and catches his lower lip between his teeth as he tosses the rock as hard as he can out into the water, a dull throb running through his arm after not using those muscles in so long. It’s a good pain though, barely there. He releases a drawn out breath, one he didn’t realize he had been holding as he pulls his face mask down to hook it under his chin.

 

  Minho walks the length of the shore, picking up stones as he goes and throwing them as hard as he can. Occasionally he’ll try and make an attempt to skip it, but he only gets close once. Even then the stone just sinks to the bottom, dragging the corners of Minho’s lips with it.

 

   _How did Jisung do it?_

 

Gosh, Minho misses Jisung. He didn’t think he would, but he’s missing all of the guys. He can’t wait to have Hyunjin down at the island for a whole entire week and introduce him to all of them, to show Hyunjin everything about the island Minho is growing to love, and to show his new friends his best friend, properly this time. To show Jisung why Minho loves Hyunjin so much, and definitely not in that way. Because Minho is starting to think his heart might be leaning—

 

  Minho is lost in thought as he tosses a rock again, on the other end of the park now. He is shocked however, to hear two splashes instead of just one.

 

  “Oh my god, I did it!” Minho looks at the two ripples in awe, eyes wide as he looks around. No one has noticed his accomplishment, but he doesn’t care.

 

 

    > 13:45

Jisung! I skipped a rock!

 

    SUNGIE 13:50

That’s aweosm!!!

awesome*

You should send me a vid!!

 

 

 

 

  Kihyun comes running down the steps all of the sudden, cheeks flushed from sprinting across the park. Hyunwoo appears a few moments later, visibly less out of breath. 

 

  “What’s wrong Minho?”

 

  “Take a video of me!” Minho shoves his phone into Kihyun’s hands, and he doesn’t miss the confusion on the man's face as he takes the device.

 

  “You said there was an emergency-?”

 

  Minho nods quickly. There's energy buzzing through him as he helps open up the camera app, excited impatience rolling off of him in waves. “It is, I need you to film me skipping this rock so I can send it to my friend!”

 

  Kihyun seems confused still, but considerably less stressed now that he knows nothing is actually wrong. Minho might’ve exaggerated a little in his message about why he needed Kihyun to rush over to pick him up. Thankfully Hyunwoo does as Minho requested, pushing past Kihyun to take the phone and open the camera app, the ghost of a fond smile on his face as he presses the red button to start recording.

 

  “Go for it!”

 

  They watch the video once it’s filmed, and Minho grins brightly as he thanks Kihyun and Hyunwoo both, bowing almost ninety degrees to the men and making Kihyun even more flustered.

 

  “Thank you so much.”

 

  “It really was nothing kid, now let’s get back to the car before Kihyun has an aneurysm.”

 

 

    > 14:07

    > video_attachment.mov

I did it!

 

    SUNGIE 14:09

that’s so cool!

When u get back u can show me for real!

ahhhh  

I can’t wait to go surfing

 

 

  Minho’s mood dampens slightly when he reads Jisung’s last message, thinking back to dinner the night before. He doesn’t want to stay in the city for another night, doesn’t want to be woken up at 3am because this father has returned from the emergency meeting and feels like bumping into every piece of furniture on his way to his room. He'd rather be on the island, worrying about his first day of work, and how he was definitely going to make a fool of himself when he got out on the water with Jisung. 

 

   So, he pulls out his phone.

 

 

    > 14:19

Mom, I’m sorry but I’m gonna take a train back to the island.

I love you and dad, but I think this is for the best.

I’ll see you at the end of the summer.

 

    MOM 14:25

I’ll deal with your father.

Tell Jiyeon I’m grateful that she’s able to be there for you.

I love you baby, you're doing well.

 

 

  “Kihyun, take me to Seoul Station please.”

 

  “Of course Minho.” There's a bit of hesitance to Kihyuns voice when he speaks, but they make eye contact in the rear view mirror, and Kihyun seems to see the decision in Minho's eyes. 

 

  Hyunwoo and Kihyun insist on staying with Minho as he buys a ticket for himself, and endure the strange looks the cashier gives them when he only buys one youth ticket for himself, but they get through without any trouble. Hyunwoo also insists on buying Minho snacks for the trips, and both the driver and the bodyguard have a grand old time arguing over what snack is better while Minho watches, amused.

 

  Eventually Hyunwoo wins, but it's mostly because he shoves Kihyun away and brings his pick to the counter first. 

 

  So Minho steps onto the train with someone to wave goodbye to this time, and a backpack full of snacks handpicked for him. 

 

 

 

  Sometime halfway through the train ride, Minho messages Yoo his plans, because he all of the sudden remembers that he needs a ride home, and he really just wants to see his aunt again. Wants to give her a hug, well, really he just wants a hug from her. Wants to breathe in and smell the candles that Yoo always has burning in at least one room of the house, and the familiar smell of the beach and the ocean. 

 

  To say Yoo is a bundle of emotions would be an understatement. Almost half a second after she must read the message she's calling him, and as soon as he answers she's yelling into his ear. Minho is only grateful that he chose a relatively empty car to ride in, so even though Yoo can be heard clearly through the phone, no one is close enough to do so. She seems happy that he's coming back, but worried and somewhat pissed that he may not have mentioned this little early journey to his parents. 

 

  Minho quickly tells her that it's okay, and he is very legally riding the train back home. 

 

  Though still suspicious. Yoo seems to believe him enough to let him off the hook, and assure him that he will have a ride waiting for him when he gets to the station in Busan. 

 

  And with that, Minho takes another fucking nap, suddenly exhausted and very much ready to get back to his own bed. 

 

  Getting back to the island is like a weight being lifted from Minho’s shoulders, and he practically runs into Aunt Yoo’s arms when they met up at the train station, happy for the warmth that comes from her sweater and the sun as it beats down on the late afternoon of Busan as they drive away from the city and towards where the ferries dock. Aunt Yoo turns on the radio, adjusting the dial until it starts playing old songs from the 80’s with a hint of static in the background.

 

  They spend the whole way home listening to music with the windows down, Minho letting his arm dangle out the window and holding it up occasionally to feel the warm summer air against his skin as it rushes past.

 

  Aunt Yoo doesn’t ask him why he came home early, and like Minho’s mother promised, his father doesn’t call to reprimand him.

 

  As soon as Minho gets into Yoo's car, no, as soon as he feels Yoo's arms holding him Minho feels himself expand. Like the city was dragging him underwater and the pressure had been crushing him, but being back releases him and lets him settle into his skin once more.

 

  Everything just felt better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  


  “You’re so handsome!”

 

  “He really is isn’t he?”

 

  “Oh you should meet our granddaughter, she’s a pretty girl as well. How old did you say you were again young man-?”

 

  Minho’s shoulders curl in towards his chest in embarrassment as he ducks his head, and he knows that his cheeks are flushed red.

 

  “Oh, I uh—” He stutters over his words as he stares down at the notepad in his hand, the one Chan had handed to him with his pen at the beginning of the day.

 

  The boy had warned him that the older couples loved to chat and play matchmaker, he just hadn’t expected them to be so forward with it. He could see the mischievous light in their eyes though, and he knew as much as they were serious about wanting to set him up they were still joking at the same time.

 

  “Minho, a moment please!” Chan calls him from the back.

 

  “Coming!” Minho squeaks out, grateful for an excuse to escape from the old womens cooing.

 

  Work was a strange experience for Minho, but a welcome one. Chan told him to wear a plain shirt and jeans that he didn’t mind getting stains on and to show up a few minutes before nine so he could show him around.

 

  He was worried about having to talk to so many people, but Minho found that he was actually pretty good once he got into a rhythm, and if anything people seemed excited to finally meet ‘Jiyeon’s nephew’. Aunt Yoo apparently talked about him every so often.

 

 

  “Do you need something Chan?” Minho asks as he pokes his head into the back room, where Chan had been checking stock and organizing for the better part of the last hour. He said he rarely had time to do so in the mornings when it was just him working, and he could never trust Felix out front on his own.

 

  “I was just going to tell you your shift ends soon, I can take your tables.”

 

  “But it’s only one?” Minho glances up at the clock, making sure he isn’t mistaken.

 

  “It’s your first day, and those ladies have been looking for someone else to prey on since I keep declining offers for dates. I mean, I know their granddaughters, they’re nice, they’re just not…”

 

  Minho raises an eyebrow when Chan trails off, the blondes ears turning red as he knocks over a small pile of cans.

 

  “They’re just not my type.”

 

  “Mhm. Sure.”

 

  Chan sends Minho a playful glare, “Not to mention a certain boy has been hounding me since yesterday asking when you get off. He’s been around the back four times already today, I had to tell him you were busy. He’s still outside sulking I think.”

 

  Minho feels himself perk up when Chan says this, because they both know the boy he’s talking about. He thought he heard Jisung’s voice earlier, but he was in the middle of taking one of his first orders, and was far too focused on making sure Chan could read his chicken scratch writing to see if his suspicions were correct. Apparently, they were. He wonders why the boy didn’t just come inside though?

 

  “Thank you Chan!” Minho is probably grinning like a mad man now. “And thank you for hiring me.”

 

  “Of course, now get out before Jisung comes back. I’m gonna get a migraine if I have to hear him whining again.”

 

  Minho rushes to give his table their drinks, unable to his excitement as he unties his apron on the way to the back of the diner. He shoves his things into one of the small cubbies in the back, his own named scribbled in bright bold english letters—courtesy of Felix—right over said boys own cubby. It made Minho happy that Felix seemed to excited to have him working there as well.

 

  When Minho slips out of the back room finally after thanking Chan one last time, he’s surprised and excited to find that Jisung is there, waiting for him.

 

  The boy looks slightly uncomfortable as he stands in the doorway, as if he’s unsure of whether he wants to come inside. Strange.

 

  Minho doesn’t care though, because he can feel his heart soaring when he meets Jisung’s eyes, which brighten immediately.

 

  “Hey Sungie,” Minho says when he reaches the other boy, lips split into a broad smile. Using the nickname out loud is a little odd he’ll admit, but it rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, and the way Jisung’s eyes widen just a fraction make it worth it.

 

  “Huh-Hey Minho.”

 

  “C’mon, I’ve waited long enough for today.” Minho giggles, not knowing where all this confidence is coming from all the sudden. He doesn’t want to waste it though, not when he’s finally back where he feels like he belongs, even if it’s just a little bit. He takes Jisung’s hand in his own and drags the other boy out of the diner and down the front steps, looking over his shoulder to see Jisung staring at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

 

  Minho slows down for a moment. Was he too forward? He probably shouldn’t have gotten so excited… Jisung was probably regretting asking him to hang out now wasn’t he— His thoughts begin to snowball, and his hand loosens around Jisungs.

 

  But then Jisung catches up to him so they’re walking beside each other, and Minho has flashbacks to the festival when Jisung smiles and glances down at their hands before lacing their fingers together carefully.

 

  “Let’s go.”

 

_Ba-Dump._

 

Minho’s heart skips a beat, and he feels like something clicks into place right then and there.

 

 

 

 

  Too bad Minho really sucks at surfing.

 

  It isn’t fair that Jisung is an amazing teacher. It makes Minho wonder how much patience Jisung has for him to watch Minho climb onto the board over and over again only to fall off a few seconds after. Minho would have given up an hour ago if it hadn’t been for Jisung’s encouraging words, and his smile that didn’t falter once. Even when Minho totally fell on top of him one time, sending them both tumbling down into the water. He’s pretty sure he elbowed Jisung in the face as well, if the boys swollen lip has anything to say for him.

 

  “Did I mention I can’t swim?” Minho says in a shaky voice as he crouches on the board once more, staring down at the water, murky from all the sand he kicked up the last time he slipped off.

 

  “A few times now,” Jisung giggles, his hand on Minho’s back to steady him. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.”

 

  Jisung is wearing that damned rash guard again, except up close and freshly soaked with water it hugs his body in places Minho refuses to look at, because he can’t afford to get even more distracted than he already his by Jisung’s damp windswept hair and the cute fucking adorable crooked tooth he has that shows whenever he smiles.

 

  “You better be here,” Minho mutters, and begins to paddle towards the shore like Jisung told him to.

 

  “Keep going! Now, stand up!” Jisung calls out at a certain point, and Minho feels himself wobble as soon as he gets into a crouching position like Jisung showed him earlier on the beach. “Up!”

 

  “I hear you!” Minho yells through grit teeth, because before he can get too far, he loses his balance and is sent back into the salty water.

 

  Minho flails for a moment like he always does, because there’s that split second where he can’t find his footing and a jolt of panic shoots through him before his feet hit the bottom. There’s a hand on his shoulder though, and Jisung is helping him up with ease.

 

  It amazes Minho how fast Jisung can move in the water.

 

  The tee shirt Minho wears to hide his upper body hangs down from the water, and Minho has to pull the fabric off his stomach where it’s suctioned to him. The wet sound it makes is gross, and Minho wishes he had been smart enough to buy his own rash guard, especially while he was in the city and there were shops everywhere. Jisung was kind enough to offer his own shirt though, and Minho can only only it wasn’t because Jisung saw the hint of panic in Minho’s eyes when he realized his blunder.

 

  “Here, I have a good feeling about this one. Seriously.”

 

  Minho gathers his board again, tugging on the string that connects it to his ankle. He rolls his eyes at Jisung. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”

 

  “Really! Come on Minho, I know you can do it.” Jisung says, clapping his hands together to encourage him further.

 

  The truth is that Minho doesn’t think he could ever say no to Jisung.

 

  “One more try.”

 

  Minho situates himself on his board, and tries to remember all the times he had seen Jisung surf by Aunt Yoo’s in passing.

 

  The sound of a boat motor comes from behind him, and Minho glances over his shoulder to see that a small speedboat has just gone by.

 

  “Perfect, see the wake of the boat is coming. You’ve got the perfect waves.” Jisung explains, pulling Minho and the board further away from the shore. “Here, just wait until I say go.”

 

  Minho waits like he’s told, eyes on the shoreline as he grips the sides of the surfboard.

 

  “Now!” Jisung pushes him off, and Minho is sure that his arms are going to ache tomorrow with how much he’s used them. Yet he paddles as hard as he can, because Jisung said he’d do well, and he’ll believe him every time.

 

  “Up!” Jisung calls out, and Minho feels the first wave roll under the board just as he starts getting up, almost holding his breath as he stands and pushes his arms out for balance. There’s the faint sound of Jisung cheering behind him as he continues on, and a rush of adrenaline flows through him when Minho realizes that he’s _actually_ managed to do it.

 

  He falls off right by the shore, but he did it, and Minho doesn’t remember the last time he's felt so proud of himself.

 

  Minho turns to see Jisung, but is caught off guard when one particularly strong wave comes crashing down on his legs, and sends him falling back right on his ass as it washes over him with some crazy force.

 

 His hair drips and there’s a burning in the back of his throat from the salt water he accidentally swallowed and inhaled, but when Minho pushes the sopping curtain of hair out of his eyes he starts laughing uncontrollably.

 

  “I did it!” He calls out and throws his arms in the air happily. He catches a slightly blurry image of Jisung, who is swimming towards him with a look of worry that’s slowly morphing into laughter as well when he realizes Minho is okay, if not a little roughed up by the rogue wave. "I fucking did it Jisung!"

 

  “You did!” Jisung says when he reaches him, face split open into the brightest grin Minho has ever seen.

 

  Minho throws himself at Jisung once he gets to his feet, wrapping his arms around the boys neck and squeezing him in a tight wet hug. And of course they both go crashing into the water from Minho’s momentum, because when will anything else in Minho’s life ever go right?

 

  The two boys are a giggling mess as they fix themselves, and Minho runs his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face and look over at Jisung.

 

  “Thank you.” Minho says, leaving his arm around Jisung as they sit in the water. Catching their breath for a moment. “For teaching me, even if I’m awful.”

 

  “It wasn’t about you being _good_ , you big dummy,” Jisung smiles warmly, and Minho thinks for a moment that Jisung is leaning into him while he speaks. “It was just about spending time together.”

 

  And Minho thinks that right here, and right now, he’s happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck lives minsung rise  
> bitch  
> look at that stupid ass ending don't u fucking love it
> 
> see y'all next chapter <3 (be prepared)
> 
> comments/kudos are MUCH appreciated, i love hearing everything you lads have to say


	10. where love lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh sorry for the late update i started watching a drama and just,, forgot that the real world was a thing
> 
> also! i got an adorable kitten who decided that she wanted to help me write and walked across my keyboard like, every three paragraphs. she's awesome though, very good for morale, i love her
> 
> she's currently sitting on my lap and i think i might die
> 
> but yeah, enjoy

  Lee Minho is beautiful.

 

  From the moment he first saw Minho, Jisung thinks he’s been in love, or something close to it.

 

  Okay, so maybe not in love. There’s something though, something in the way he felt compelled to call out to Minho the first day he properly saw him, the way his heart seemed to leap out of his chest at Seungmin’s house when he made eye contact and realized that it was the same boy as before sitting on the couch, trying to make himself as small as possible. All night Jisung felt himself glancing over at Minho, a hot flush coming over him every time he almost got caught.

 

  There was something about how Minho was so clearly not from the island that intrigued Jisung, not to mentioned that Minho was and still is _extremely_ pretty.

 

  Crushes hit Jisung hard, and fast. But none of them have ever lasted, not until now.

 

  Minho didn’t talk much that night, at least not to Jisung. Though he did catch Minho talking to Chan and Woojin occasionally, otherwise Minho would be sneaking looks at his phone. It made Jisung a little sad to think that Minho was looking at the time, as if the boy wanted to leave more than anything.

 

  He meant to talk to Minho, he just didn’t mean to _keep_ talking.

 

  Thankfully Minho didn’t seem too perturbed by Jisung ranting his ear off, even though they had only just met properly. If anything, Minho looked happier? Maybe it was Jisung hoping for things that would never happen, but before he could even say much more past his rant about the band, Younghyun was calling him away.

 

  “Yo, lover boy, go get me the wires for the small amp.” Younghyun said when Jisung jogged over, sending Jisung into a fit of sputtering and the feeling of his entire body flushing a dark pink. “And don’t scare the kid, you’re being way too obvious.”

 

  “Shut the fuck up!” Jisung hissed at Younghyun, glancing back to see Minho looking at his phone again.

 

  Was he really that obvious?

 

  “Yeah, you’re hopeless dude.” Dowoon says when he walks by, and it’s then that Jisung knows he’s fucked.

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Jisung almost trips down the stairs, stumbling down the last few steps and almost losing an eye on the edge of the table as he whips around the corner.

 

  “I can’t find my contacts!” Jisung screeches, catching Younghyun off guard and almost causing him to drop the plate he's holding. “Mom!”

 

  “Jeshush, be a lil quieta’ next time ya menafth.” Younghyun speaks around the toast between his teeth, opening the fridge and grabbing the orange juice. He drops the bread back onto his plate, and looks like he’s about to take a swig of the juice before the sound of footsteps appears, and their mother is walking around the corner.

 

  Younghyun chokes on the juice he had already began to swallow, scrambling to hide the carton behind his back.

 

  “Very funny, but you’re not as slick as you used to be.” Their mom says with a sarcastic smile, smacking Younghyun on the shoulder playfully.

 

  “Sorry mom.”

 

  “Mhm, sure you are. And I won’t catch you doing it again tomorrow morning?” She raises her eyebrows, and Jisung covers his mouth to hide his grin. Younghyun catches it though, and sends Jisung a look.

 

  “Here ya go honey.” Jisung’s mom holds out a package of new contact lenses, and Jisung takes them gratefully.

 

  “Thanks mama.”

 

  Jisung works at opening up the box as he runs back to his room, slipping his glasses off and going through the painful process of putting his contacts in before switching out of his pajamas into his swim shorts and pulling a tee shirt on as well.

  
  


  The kitchen is far brighter than it had been when Jisung first ran down, and he hears his mother singing along to the radio they have set up on top of the fridge as she soaks noodles and plates the kimchi at the same time. Her voice floats through the house like a breeze, and Jisung feels himself unconsciously relaxing at the sound. Beautiful, even though she only knows a few of the words outside of the chorus.

 

 

_Make sure you eat even though you’re tired,_

_Then I’ll compliment you later_

 

 

  “Jisung, no more running and screaming in the morning I beg of you,” Jisung's father pats his head when he shuffles by, the beginnings of a beard showing that he hasn’t shaved yet today.

 

  “Sorry dad!” Jisung slides between Younghyun and his mother, eyeing the sliced carrots that his brother is currently slicing, probably for the japchae their mom is making. Jisung is sneaky though.

 

  He darts his hand out, and _almost_ gets a hold of one, but Younghyun is faster, taking the slice Jisung went for and popping it into his mouth.

 

 “Not for you squirt.”

 

  Jisung pouts, but notices Younghyun glancing over at their mom then back at him sneakily. He takes a step closer to his brother, and sure enough there’s a thin wad of cash being pressed into his hand.

 

  They share a subtle fist bump, and Jisung successfully snatches a carrot the next time Younghyun is distracted by their mother asking about work.

 

  Jisung and Younghyun have been saving up money for the past few months together, pooling their efforts at the end of each week to put into a bank account they created. It’s all hush hush, but that’s mostly because it would ruin the surprise if anyone found out. Jisung says he’s picked up extra hours at work to buy himself a new surfboard—even though he would never actually think of replacing his first—when really it’s because him and Younghyun are trying to buy a nice swinging chair for the huge oak that grows by the edge of their yard.

 

  Their mom loves going out and looking at the water, so they figured a chair she and dad could sit on would be a nice surprise for their anniversary at the end of the summer.

 

  “You’re going to be out today right Ji?” His father asks through a yawn as he helps set the table for breakfast. Jisung nods excitedly, opening his mouth to start talking in rapid fire about how excited he is when Younghyun clears his throat.

 

  “You wanna rant, you gotta pay the fee.”

 

  Jisung scowls and flips Younghyun off discreetly.

 

  Ever since his brother had caught on to Jisung’s habit to blush and stutter and talk about Minho constantly—Jisung swears Younghyun exaggerates about how much he talks about Minho—Younghyun repurposed an old cookie jar into his ‘Rant Jar’. He says it’s for the whole family to contribute, but Jisung seems to be the person who donates to it most often. He knows it’s his own fault though.

 

  Yes, it is a thing that exists, and Jisung is pretty sure Younghyun is planning on buying a new amp for the band with it.

 

  Their parents had asked them both to be friendly to Minho when he first arrived, as Auntie Yoo had mentioned her nephew coming to visit for the summer while Jisung and his mother were out shopping one day. Jisung had promised to say hello and be nice, because what kind of person would he be if he didn’t?

 

  Jisung just didn’t expect Minho to be so pretty, and have a laugh that made his heart skip a fucking beat.

 

  “Stop teasing your brother, Younghyun.” Their father says through a mouthful of rice.

 

  “Stop talking with your mouth full, Youngjin.” Younghyun copies their fathers tone, and Jisung watches as his father makes a face but continues to eat anyways.

 

  “Boys, please.” Their mother sighs, but she’s smiling, and Jisung knows they’re all happy to have Younghyun’s sarcastic ass back from college. She still sends Younghyun a look though, something like ‘call me anything other than mom and be prepared to make your own rice for the rest of the summer’.

 

  “Sorry mama,” Younghyun apologizes, and returns to buttering his toast.

 

  “Pass the crab”

  


 

 

 

  “Dowoon is going away next week, he asked if we would be willing to take Mae again.” Younghyun says after glancing at his phone, earning him a small kick from Jisung before their parents notice.

 

  “Of course we will.” Their father answers in a steely voice, and they all have to hide their laughter at that. It’s no secret that their father absolutely loves Mae like a child, and lives for having her over so they can take naps together on the living room couch.

 

  “Jisung can you finish the back half of the porch?” Younghyun asks as he finishes off his plate, beginning to rush as the time for his shift to start grows closer. “It’s just me working today so I’m there until nine.”

 

  “Oh don’t worry about it Ji,” Their mom waves away Younghyun, and stands up to start cleaning the kitchen up from breakfast. “I’ll do the porch, you hang out with Minho.”

 

  “Mom you don’t—” Jisung starts but is cut off by his mother.

 

  “Nuh uh, I talked with Jiyeon and she said Minho has been looking forward to this for days, and I will not let my son,” His mother has to pause to hide the smile that has been slowly growing as she pretends to be serious. “I will _not_ have my son disappoint the boy he has a crush on—”

 

  _“Mom!”_ Jisung screeches, sliding down into his seat until he goes too far down and flails for a moment before catching himself.

 

  His mother’s laughter fills the room, and Jisung really wants to melt into the ground as he drops his forehead onto the table.

 

  “Kidding, but I’m serious about the porch.”

 

  Jisung lets out a long sigh, voice muffled as he speaks into the wooden surface of the table. “Thank you, mama”

 

  They all work to clean the table while Younghyun rushes around the house to find the blue vest he’s required to wear during his shift, even when everyone knows he works at the store, and a new shirt after he smears kimchi on the first one. Even though there’s no one to impress with clean clothes on a Monday morning in the middle of summer though. After all, the only other person who goes to the store who isn’t looking to go in and out without making small talk would be Jae, and Jisung knows for a fact that Younghyun could wear a trash bag and Jae would love it.

 

  “Sungie, did you put on sunblock?”

 

  Jisung is about to slip out the door so he doesn’t have to wash the dishes when his mom calls out to him, and he has to sit through fifteen minutes of fidgety scolding from his mother as she smears white goop on his face because they both know Jisung will run away without doing it himself just because he’s forgetful.

 

  “Be safe!”

 

  “Yeah, yeah! Thanks!” Jisung wipes his cheeks more as he speed walks down the path to town, knowing there’s bound to still be smudges covering his nose and cheek.

 

  The entire walk to town Jisung is almost vibrating with all the pent up energy he has inside of him. He’s been looking forward to this day for what feels like years, when really it’s been less than a week. All his text conversations with Minho haven't been helping his patience.

 

  The video Minho sent to him yesterday absolutely shattered his heart and soul, and Younghyun walked in on Jisung curled up in his blankets watching the video over and over and over again, which was embarrassing to say the least.

 

 

 

  The video is a little iffy in the quality but anything that includes Minho is high quality in Jisung’s point of view.

 

   _“Go for it!”_ An unknown voice says, and the video zooms in on Minho tossing a rock into Han River, just barely managing to skip it three times.

 

  It’s when the video zooms in on Minho’s face, split into the brightest smile Jisung has ever seen, that Jisung felt his heart swell. Because Minho’s eyes scrunch up into cute crescents, and through the wind warping the audio he can hear that Minho is giggling.

 

   _“Did you get it? I did it Kihyun!”_ Minho runs up to the camera, and the final panel is just Minho with a proud look on his face.

 

 

 

 

  Jisung really is whipped, as Felix would say.

 

  “Hi Jisung!”

 

  “Hello Mrs. Kim!” Jisung waves to the woman, Seungmin’s mother. She’s sitting outside of the staircase in the sidewalk that leads down into the bookstore's basement, repurposed into a small school for all the kids on the island. Seungmin’s mother handles the daycare during the summer, while Jeongin’s mother teaches the older kids during the rest of the year.

 

  Jisung knows everyone on the island, and everyone knows him. It’s kind of hard not to in a place so small, where the furthest place you can reach from ‘civilization’ is the top of the mountain, and the walk to Woojin’s house at the peak is barely more than an hour if you know which paths to take.

 

  Knowing everyone isn’t always a good thing though, and Jisung would know. It’s hard to keep secrets when there’s such a small area for news to spread.

 

  Jisung knows this as he ducks his head down and shuffles past the 'Something Old for Something New' place right before Chan’s diner. It has a real name, but none of them have bothered to figure it out in all the years it’s been there, so that’s just what they call it at this point.

 

  It’s also the building Jisung despises for his own personal reasons.

 

  “Ya, is that you Han Jisung?”

 

  A nasally voice calls out to Jisung, and he curses internally when he turns and sees a middle aged woman standing on the porch amongst the plethora of rocking chairs the shop holds—because no one needs fucking rocking chairs, but apparently they didn’t get that memo back in the dark ages.

 

  “Good morning, Mrs. Jeon.” Jisung says through the most fake smile he can manage, but it’s one he’s been taught to use whenever dealing with someone unpleasant as _Mrs. Jeon._

 

There’s a few of them on the island, Jisung just does his best to stay away from them as he slips back behind the diner.

 

 

  “Hey, Channie,” Jisung hisses through one of the back windows when he catches sight of Chan stocking in the back room, and has to hide his grin when Chan swears and drops the bundle of canned vegetables and fruit he was placing up on the shelves.

 

  “What the fuck?” Chan slides the window open more, a half annoyed, half disbelieving expression as he looks down at Jisung—who has to stand on his tiptoes just so his nose will reach the window. “Dude, you nearly scared the life out of me.”

 

  “Cool, is Minho in yet?” Jisung peers over the edge of the window, trying to see past Chan’s fat ass and catch a glimpse of the beautiful boy he’s been waiting to see smile in real life and not just through a screen for what seems like eternity.

 

  “Yes, if you must know. He’s doing surprisingly well, actually.” Chan glances over his shoulder, and Jisung has to ignore the urge to punch Chan in the thigh so he’ll move and Jisung will be able to see whatever, or rather whoever he’s looking at. “And if you must know, I’m going to let him off in an hour. Until then, I forbid you from bothering him.”

 

  Jisung’s retort is cut off by Chan flicking his forehead and shutting the window all the way, and pulling the shadows together, which is frankly, just plain rude.

 

  Jisung is trying to see the potential love of his life here.

 

   (That was a joke). 

 

 

 

 

  For the next forty five minutes or so, Jisung spends his time tossing rocks and seeing if he can hit any berries out of the bushes behind the diner. Maybe he watches the video sent him once or twice. Five times, tops. Scrolls through old text messages until his cheeks are far too hot and he has to stop himself before he combusts. Because yeah, Minho was right when he said he was bad at text talk, but it doesn’t make him any less cute with his little smiley faces out of a colon and a parenthesis instead of an actual emoji.

 

  Jisung wishes he felt less like a heart eyes anime girl whenever Minho came around. Usually he isn’t so bad, but he’s an impatient person, and he’s probably thought about taking Minho out surfing since they properly became kind of friends at the beach.

 

  Plus everyone won’t stop teasing him about his crush, and Jisung is extremely gay. Especially for Minho.

 

  “Oh Jisung!”

 

  Jisung feels himself jump when a voice sounds from behind him. He had moved to the front of the diner when he realized it was getting closer and closer to one, and had tried to keep his head down so people wouldn’t think he was any weirder than they already did. Apparently he didn’t duck down far enough.

 

  “Ah, huh-hello Missus Ahn.” He bows politely to the old woman, lips pressed into a nervous line as she reaches the bottom of the steps.

 

  “Are you waiting for someone, dear?” Miss Ahn asks, a sweet smile on her face that makes Jisung’s stomach sick. “Oh we just met the most lovely young man, didn’t we Soonja? Minho, I think his name was, so polite.”

 

  A grunt butts into their conversation, and an old woman with the ghost of a scowl on her thin face hobbles down the stairs as well. Also known as Mrs. Park.

 

  “Good afternoon.” Jisung bows, and thinks for one moment that he’ll be spared.

 

  His hopes aren’t answered though.

 

  “Sloppy bow. _Aish,_ don’t kids have any respect these days?” Mrs. Park grumbles, but Jisung was expecting that. Almost everyone younger than dirt gets that from Mrs. Park. Jisung just hates the way the old woman’s eyes bore into Jisung like he’s the scum of the earth. “I ought to talk with your stepmother about you. To think you and Younghyun are related in any way is beside me.”

 

  Jisungs lungs turn to stone, and all he can do is nod stiffly and wait until Miss Ahn finally drags Mrs. Park down the road, going on about roses and her grandchildren visiting.

 

   _Nice._ Jisung thinks to himself as he gathers his wits again, shoving the urge to run back home and hide under his covers until his dad or mom or even Younghyun find him. He refuses to let that snake of an old woman ruin his day with one damn word. Jisung knows he’s stronger than that.

 

  It makes him antsy to climb the steps of the diner though, because he knows all the old people like to go out for lunch and try to woo Chan into accidentally agreeing to marry one of their granddaughters—even though to anyone else it’s clear that Chan has the hots for a certain mountain man.

 

  Reaching the top doesn’t disappoint though.

 

  It feels like a movie moment—at least to Jisung—when he finally catches sight of Minho, walking around with a tray on his hip (which for some reason Jisung finds _incredibly_ hot) and the sleeves of his dark blue tee shirt rolled up to show off his biceps (which are _great_ by the way). And Jisung doesn’t want to be that person, but Minho is wearing jeans that look amazing, if you know what he means. His hair is ruffled just so, and there’s a faint glimmer of nervousness in his eyes, but he looks beautiful and windswept and Jisung is so, _so_ whipped.

 

  They make eye contact, and Jisung feels like this is his gift for only bothering Chan four times today when he really just wanted to bother the young man until Chan let Minho leave early.

 

  “Hey Sungie.”

 

  Jisung dies, right there in the doorway of the diner.

 

  It was a special burst of bravery that convinced him to put his name in Minho’s phone at that, one that came from learning that he _did_ have a chance, and Hyunjin was _not_ a shitty boyfriend who flirts with other people right in front of Minho.

 

  Yeah, Jisung was pissed about that for a little while. Younghyun bought pizza with the money from that rant.

 

  “Huh-Hey Minho,” Jisung says, his tongue feeling twice it’s normal size as he stumbles over his words.

 

   “C’mon, I’ve waited long enough for today.” Minho giggles, and Jisung thinks it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Play it at his funeral please.

 

  There’s something different about Minho now, something that Jisung can’t really put a name to, but it’s far from bad. Minho is more sure in his steps as he drags Jisung down the front steps of the diner, and Jisung can only stare at their hands together in awe, because even if it’s not the first time they’ve held hands he’s pretty sure this is the first time Minho has initiated anything between them like this.

 

  A hint of the anxiety comes back, but Jisung is quick to assuage whatever is trying to take root in Minho’s brain.

 

  “Let’s go.”

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

  Surfing with Minho is a dream. Seeing Minho wearing his shirt and giggling when he’s soaked in salt water is enough to give Jisung heart palpitations.

 

  Minho flails and clings to Jisung when he falls of the board, and Jisung has to force himself to look away from Minho when he sees how Minho’s dark eyelashes clump together with the water and make the deep brown of his eyes sparkle, because they’re _that_ close to each other.

 

  And Jisung feels like God either loves him or hates him when Minho tackles him in a hug, laughter rolling out of both of them as salt water pours into their mouths and makes them both gag when they finally step out of the surf.

 

 

  “Wanna come over?”

 

  The last thing Jisung expects, even if he hopes for it is for Minho to say, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

 

  Then it’s Minho shivering in Jisungs front foyer, and Jisung finds it kind of adorable how Minho is so easily affected by the weather. He switches the laundry quickly, taking the fresh and warm towels out of the dryer and shoving the wet clothes from the washing machine inside and putting it on high so they’ll dry faster.

 

  Minho combs out his tangled hair in the bathroom once they dry off, and there’s a lazy grin on his face when he comes back out and plops down onto the couch beside Jisung, who raided the kitchen and now has a bag of chips for them to munch on if Minho is hungry.

 

  “Thanks Sungie.”

 

  “It was nothing,” Jisung says in a soft voice. “Are you warmer now?”

 

  “Mhm,” Minho hums, running his fingers over the pillow he holds in his lap. He looks content, kind of like a cat about to take a nap, with his hair all fluffy from the sea, half dry and curling at the tips. If Jisung had less control he would definitely want to run his fingers through it, because he knows how nice that feels when you’re fresh out of the ocean.

 

   _Pretty_. Jisung swallows around the lump in his throat, and reaches blindly for the television remote.

 

  “Wanna watch a movie?”

 

  “Sure.”

 

  Jisung takes his time to set up the TV, because they still have an old brick of a television that tints everything slightly blue if you move the wires too much in any which way. Kind of embarrassing, but Minho slides down to sit beside Jisung on the floor, going through the DVDs Jisung’s family has while Jisung plugs things in. His family doesn’t watch television that much in the summer, there’s other stuff to do.

 

  Saying Minho isn’t a little bit distracting would be a lie.

 

  Minho mumbles the titles under his breath, and makes small noises of interest and surprise every so often. It’s kind of adorable really.

 

  “Hey, do you want like, a change of clothes or something?” Jisung asks when he sees Minho is wearing the same clothes as he was in the diner. Jisung is pretty sure there’s a huge stain on the collar from some kind of food.

 

  “I don’t wanna be any trouble,” Minho starts but Jisung shakes his head so fast he thinks he threw something out of place.

 

  “Not at all, that can’t be comfortable. Besides, the TV is ready so we can come back down and watch something right when we get back.”

 

  “Oh, Okay.” Minho sets a DVD case on the couch as he stands with Jisung, and Jisung thinks he recognizes the cover as The Princess Bride. Because of course Minho has to want to watch a movie like that.

 

 

  It’s kind of embarrassing to show Minho into his room, but Jisung thinks he catches Minho smile when Jisung kicks a small pile of dirty clothes under the bed with a sheepish look. His room isn’t messy, just a little disorganized. The walls are white, because he had seen and laughed at Younghyun’s choice of lime green from when he was five years old, and vowed to never make the same mistake. There’s polaroid pictures covering most of the wall over his bed, courtesy of Younghyun who gave Jisung the camera as a gift for his most recent birthday.

 

  “You can sit on the bed, I’ll get something for you.” Jisung offers, his movements awkward as he points to the bed, as if it isn’t obvious, and shuffles over to his closet to find something clean for Minho to wear.

 

  “Do you mind Friends?” Jisung asks as he holds up an old black hoodie with the Friends logo so Minho can judge it.

 

  “Love it.”

 

  

 

  Jisung really hopes that Minho isn’t bored, watching him out of the corner of his eye as the boy rolls up the sleeves of the sweater so his hands can poke out, and adjusts the collar with careful movements. Jisung wishes he had planned more before inviting Minho over, but there wasn’t much thought between the idea and the words tumbling out of his mouth.

 

  “Have you seen the movie before?” Jisung cringes at his own voice when it cracks, trying not to fidget when he feels Minho shift beside him, and maybe even move closer.

 

  “Once, a while ago.” Minho hums, munching on some of the chips Jisung brought out. The hoodie hangs low on his collarbones, and Jisung blames years of pulling at the collar when he was bored. Not that he’s complaining all that much. “My parents didn’t like me watching television much. I can’t remember who I watched it with to be honest.”

 

  There’s a faint frown on Minho’s lips, and Jisung wants to smooth the furrow of thought that appears in his brow.

 

  “Hey,” Jisung’s breath catches in his throat when Minho looks up at him just as he looks down again, and he realizes, they’re kinda close. Like, send Jisung into a gay panic close.

 

  _Heck._

 

  “Yeah?” Minho looks up at him with round eyes, and Jisung knows that he’s just opening and closing his mouth like a fish but he is very taken off guard right now. Nothing in life prepared him to have Lee fucking Minho this close to him, in his hoodie, while they’re ten centimeters away from cuddling. Jisung doesn’t know when this all happened, but is he angry about it? Not really.

 

  “You have really beautiful eyes.” The compliment slips from Jisung’s lips before he can stop it, and he watches as Minho’s eyes widen, showing off more of the deep color, and where it grows darker around his pupils.

 

  “Thanks,” Minho breathes out, and Jisung can hear the movie starting but he doesn’t really want to look away.

 

 _Should I? Nope. You really shouldn’t._  Jisung thinks as he blinks, wondering if Minho thinks they’ve been staring at each other for too long, because they _definitely_ have been. But maybe-

 

  Jisung takes a deep breath, and he can see how bad his hand is shaking in his peripheral vision when he brings it up to Minho’s cheek, barely touching the skin there. _There’s still time to turn back isn’t there?_

 

_But do you want to?_

 

Jisung’s chest is filled with butterflies, and there’s a moment of hesitation before he leans forwards.

 

 Yep. He did that. He really tried to kiss Lee fucking Minho, but he doesn’t, because before he can get too close he’s being shoved away harshly, held at arm's length by Minho whose eyes are still wide and round but now there’s fear and doubt in them, and Jisung feels the butterflies die as he wonders what the fuck he just tried to do.

 

  “You can’t kiss me.” Minho says, and Jisung’s heart shatters.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was one of my absolute favorites to write, but it also made me very nervous because I've talked to so many people who said they preferred it entirely in Minho's pov
> 
> but like,,, this chapter has been planned since the beginning and i hope you guys liked your little hint at what jisungs backstory might happen to be
> 
> because it's been super fun to plan that out
> 
> you thought he was all smiles and sunshine didn't you lol


	11. for the fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS**  
> minor/referenced internalized homophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh
> 
> also MIROH TEASER PICS FUCK
> 
> edit: for anyone who reads this I'm probably not going to be able to update for a little bit because of school things, end of term is coming so im rushing to get all my missing stuff handed in 
> 
> gotta grind lads, stay safe and I can't wait to see y'all for next chapter!! ♡

  Jisung’s face drops immediately, and Minho feels like everything is falling apart around him.

 

  He’s panicking, he knows he’s panicking from the way his heart is jackhammering in his chest, and everything seems too far away. Even though Jisung is still right there and he looks hurt and Minho has to finish his sentence but he can’t because, _oh god Jisung tried to kiss him_.

 

  “You can’t kiss me. You can’t—” Minho keeps saying as he tries to get his scrambled thoughts back on track, and the only thing keeping his hands from trembling is his grip on Jisung’s shoulders.

 

  “Oh.”

 

  “You don’t want to kiss me, I’m—I’m very _very_ anxious,” The words spill out of Minho and he can’t look at Jisung because he feels like he’s hurt him, and he hates that thought. This is better though, because Jisung doesn’t have to be hurt by Minho’s indecisiveness, or his overthinking, or those weird times when he feels hopeless, because Jisung is a ray of sunshine and doesn’t deserve that. Minho doesn’t know how else to tell Jisung that he’s not whatever Jisung thinks he is, he’s far worse, probably broken. There’s no reason that Jisung should want to kiss Minho.

 

  “I know, I don’t mind. That’s… That’s okay.” Jisung says in a soft voice, and he puts his hand on Minho’s arm because he’s shaking, but they both are at closer glance.

 

  “Wait, really?”

 

  “Yeah,” Jisung breathes out, nodding and squeezing Minho’s arm gently. “I like—Gosh I think I like everything about you, Minho. Even if you’re anxious sometimes.”

 

  Minho doesn’t want to ask Jisung ‘why’, but he really does at the same time. There’s nothing to like about him in his own eyes, because he knows all of his flaws and he hates the thought of someone knowing them as well, when there’s nothing he can really do about it.

 

  _-Everything about you. Even if you’re anxious._

 

“I’m sorry though, I shouldn’t have done that.” Jisung’s eyes are downcast, and the sound of the movie becomes a faint buzz in the background when Minho sees the regret and doubt in Jisung’s eyes. And it hurts, because Minho did that, and he doesn’t know how to take back what he said.

 

  “It’s… Okay,” Minho says, and he feels his shoulders relax as the panic bleeds away, and he starts to wonder.

 

  The last time Minho kissed someone, it was pleasant sure, but not in the way he wished it would be. It left a bitter taste in mouth underneath the tang of cheap beer that had been left out for too long, and the girl was rough and unforgiving when she shoved him into a wall and went at him. She bit at Minho until he couldn’t do anything but push her away and make sure he didn’t have a split lip or something. It was months back, and he still remembers the lights of the party flashing behind his eyelids, and how disgusted with himself he felt when he staggered home with his arms wrapped around himself.

 

  He hadn’t done anything like it since, and Minho wonders now if kissing Jisung in his sun lit living room while watching a movie together would be different, if the warmth Jisung seemed to radiate would translate to how he kissed.

 

  Jisung’s lips look soft.

 

  Minho shifts so he’s on his knees, and he catches Jisung watching him out of the corner of his eyes. Minho raises his hands, and he hesitates for a moment before pressing both to Jisung’s round cheeks and gently maneuvering him so they’re facing each other, and resists the urge to coo and squish them because of how soft they are.

 

  He can’t hide how his hands tremble.

 

  “I didn't mean it, when I said you couldn’t kiss me.” The words are like molasses as Minho speaks, and it feels like a battle to get every one of them out of his head and where Jisung can hear them. “This makes me anxious, but I think that’s okay. Okay?”

 

  Jisung eyes are wide as he stares at Minho. He looks like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Minho is almost glad, because he doesn’t know how to really explain that the fluttering in his chest isn’t his anxiety, and how could he explain it when he’s never felt anything like it?

 

  “Okay,” Jisung manages, and Minho takes a deep breath, just looking at Jisung for a moment.

 

  Kisses aren’t special to Minho—or rather, he had never _treated_ them as anything special before now. But now, he wants this to be special.

 

  Jisung doesn’t know how Minho used to give out kisses, and Minho is glad. Because he wants Jisung to know that he means something to Minho, even if Minho doesn’t know what that something is just yet.

 

  This means something.

 

  Jisung’s breath hitches audibly when Minho’s lips brush against his own, and it’s not really a kiss at first if they're being honest. Minho leans back, eyes flickering between Jisung’s lips, and then up to his eyes, which fluttered closed when Minho first leaned in, and Jisung looks so pretty with the afternoon sun filtering through the window.

 

  So Minho closes the gap between their lips, and it’s soft, just like he expected.

 

  One of Minho’s hands slides back to card his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Jisung’s neck, and he forces muscle memory into the back of his mind when he goes to tilt Jisung’s head back and press harder until the kiss becomes more, because Minho doesn’t want that. He likes how Jisung’s lips are soft, and careful, and a little salty from the water that still clings to his skin even after he’s dried. But it's okay because that's Jisung. It’s sweet, and Jisung’s lips are gentle when they press against Minho’s own. Each movement is hesitant and new but Minho likes it, because it makes his heart swell, and his head feels like it’s full of clouds when Jisung puts a hand on Minho’s knee to steady himself.

 

  Minho had never kissed someone he liked before. It’s nice.

 

  All in all, it’s by far the most innocent kiss Minho has ever given, but he feels like nothing else could compare to how ruffled Jisung looks with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes when Minho pulls away and has to remember how to breathe again.

 

  The movie is still playing on the television, but it’s more background noise than anything.

 

  “That was—Woah.” Is all Jisung says, out of breath, and Minho leans back into the throw pillows and hides his face in his hands because how can Jisung be so funny and cute and lovely but _such a fucking dork at the same time?_

 

  “Shut up,” Minho groans, moving one hand down to touch his lower lip where it tingles still.

 

  “Hey, hey,” Jisung says, and Minho can hear the smile in the boys voice as he reaches over and pulls Minho’s hands away from his face the slightest bit. Sure enough, there’s a bright grin on his face, but an underlying soft, unsureness in his eyes that makes Minho’s heart so fond. How could it not, when Minho has a boy like Jisung looking at him like that and make his heart do all sorts of things because Jisung wanted to kiss him and he’s still looking at Minho like that after he got what he wanted.

 

  There’s a part of Minho’s brain that wonders if this is all a dream.

 

  “What.” Minho pouts, pulling his hands over his face because _oh my god he just kissed Jisung_ and if that isn’t enough to send him in a crisis he doesn’t know what is.

 

  “Can we do that again?”

 

  Minho throws a pillow at Jisung, who dodges but doesn’t lose the puppylike expression on his face that is asking for Minho to be close again, to kiss him of all things, again.

 

  There’s a light feeling in Minho’s chest, right where his heart is, and Minho feels like he has butterflies fluttering around his ribcage when Jisung takes his hand gently and tugs. It’s not enough to pull him anywhere, it’s more of an invitation for Minho to come closer, Jisung asking Minho to come back so they can _do that again_.

 

  “Well?” Minho says, faking confidence in a smirk while he watches Jisung’s eyes widen in subtle panic. “You said you wanted to do it again.”

 

  Jisung seems to trip over his own thoughts for a few seconds, and Minho feels an overwhelming wave of fondness come over him when Jisung awkwardly puts his hand son Minho’s shoulders, then his neck, but then chickens out and puts them back on Minho’s shoulders. Minho is so fucking gone for this boy.

 

  But he feels like teasing, the anxiety running through his veins changing into something sharper, more excited.

 

  So Minho closes his eyes.

 

  He can feel the hesitation in Jisung when he squeezes Minho’s hand, but Minho gives him a light squeeze back, and Minho peeks one eye open right as Jisung leans forward and plants an innocent peck on the corner of Minho’s lips. It small, but Minho opens his eyes and Jisung looks so damn happy with himself.

 

  Jisung leans close again, so there’s only a few centimeters between their noses, but he doesn’t do anything. They just look. Jisungs dark brown eyes that glitter in the late afternoon sun as it streams through the window behind them, and the faint line on his lower lip where Jisung must have bitten at it. Minho is starting to think Jisung has a habit of tugging on his clothes, if the stretched out necklines of all his shirts have anything to say. Jisung’s collarbones peek out from the collar of his shirt, and he shivers when Minho runs his thumb over one.

 

  “You don’t regret kissing me, right?” Jisung asks suddenly, and there’s a layer of fear behind the golden happiness that pools in his eyes.

 

  The butterflies in Minho’s chest flutter angrily, because how could Jisung think that Minho _would_ regret it?

 

  “You just, sorry, you just seem more experienced? So, maybe I was bad at it or something…” Jisung is playing with the hem of his tee shirt, and Minho wants to kiss him again, wants to kiss Jisung a million times because here’s this adorable boy in front of him who cares, a ray of sunshine and Minho wants to smother him and kiss his cheeks and his nose because he feels like he can.

 

  But he can’t, because the sound of the door opening breaks through the moment and Minho panics, shoving Jisung away so hard that the boy tumbles off the couch into the pile of pillows they created. Minho wants to ask if he’s okay, but his heart is pounding and the anxiety is back because he was _kissing Jisung_ and that’s fine but what if someone _walked in on them?_

 

“Oh, sorry was I interrupting something?” A voice speaks, and Minho whips around to see a woman who has to be Younghyun and Jisung’s mom. She looks just like her oldest son, with the same round face and nose, a carbon copy almost. Just older, and more feminine.

 

  At first what she says sends another wave of panic through Minho, but then his brain begins to work again, and he feels Jisung’s hand on his shoulder. A comforting pressure. And Minho realizes that Jisung’s mom is just joking around.

 

  “Hi mama,” Jisung says, sounding much more put together than Minho feels right now. “we’re just watching a movie.”

 

  “Oh, The Princess Bride! I love that one, good choice. You like it?” Jisung’s mom eyes Minho, as if she can tell he’s the one who picked it out and he can feel himself making himself smaller under her gaze, even if it’s nothing but kind.

  “Yeah, it’s my favorite.” Minho says in a soft voice, hands in his lap as he fidgets slightly. His own mother’s gentle scoldings as a child come back to him, and he stands up quickly to bow to Jisung’s mom, eyes flickering all over the house. “Sorry, I’m being rude. I.. I’m Lee—Lee Minho.”

 

  Minho chokes out the hello, but Jisungs mothers smile doesn’t falter, if anything it becomes even more gentle as she bows back to him.

 

  “Not at all Minho, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Jisung’s mom, you can call me Eunjung if you’d like. I’m good friends with your aunt, so I think that’d be alright, if you think so as well of course.”

 

  “Oh.. Okay.” Minho nods.

 

 _What if she knows we kissed._ Is all Minho can think as Jisung and his mom speak to each other, Jisung recounting their day surfing and making small but good natured jabs at Minho and how ‘hopeless’ he is. Even Minho smiles once or twice, the thoughts are still there.

 

  There’s something about the way Jisung’s mom looks at him and then Jisung, Jisung and then him that makes Minho feel like she _knows_ something, but he couldn’t fathom what else it could be except the obvious. Somehow she doesn’t seem disgusted, if anything she looks excited to hear about Jisung’s day, and Minho is too, even though he experienced it first hand.

 

  “I should probably go soon,” Minho says after a few minutes, unwilling to overstay his welcome. He needs somewhere quiet to collect his thoughts because today has been absolutely wild for him, and Minho can feel it all weighing on his mind, telling him to take a damn nap before he crashes.

 

  “Oh, I guess it’s kind of late… I’ll go get your shorts from the dryer.” Jisung says once he looks at the clock. The sun is just starting to go down, and Minho can see the beginning of the orange and pink bleeding through the clouds that fill of the sky.

 

  Jisung disappears, and Minho is silently freaking out because he wasn't prepared to be left alone so suddenly with Jisung’s mother. She seems nice enough, but Minho feels like she _knows_ , and he can't keep his foot from tapping on the floor anxious.

 

  “Minho, would you like to come to dinner on Wednesday? You don't have to agree, I would just love to get to know you. Jisung talks about you a lot but I don't think you've met anyone other than Younghyun,” Eunjung says, and Minho really wants to say that he’s busy, and that he can't make it but he knows that if Yoo found out Minho lied she would be disappointed. She would understand sure, but she’s still be disappointed in him and Minho doesn't feel like being a disappointment to another adult in his life.

 

  It feels like deja vu.

 

  Minho says, “that sounds great” right as Jisung turns the corner with Minho’s clothes in hand.

 

  “You're sure you’ll be able to get home alright on your own?” Jisung asks worriedly, and Minho knows there's a million different questions hidden behind the one, but he can't answer them right now.

 

  “Oh please Sung, Minho is a strong boy. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Besides, you have chores don't you?”

 

  Jisung makes a noise of embarrassment and sends his mom a look, but Minho catches it. It’s kinda cute.

 

  “I’ll be fine,” Minho nods, and Eunjung makes an offended noise. “Thank you Mrs. Kang.”

 

  “Hey, I told you to call me Eunjung mister.” She grins, and Minho’s cheeks turn pink, he can tell. “Mrs. Kang makes me feel so old.”

 

  “Sorry M—Eunjung.” Minho corrects himself in a hasty tone, his work shirt already bundled up in his hands with his still damp swim shorts. “Thanks for today, Jisung.”

 

  Minho tries to keep his voice level when he looks at Jisung, and a spark of something unfamiliar runs up his spine when they make eye contact.

 

   _Fuckity fuck fuck._ Minho thinks, trying not to rush out the door like he wants to, because he knows Jisung is watching him go and he knows that he never answered Jisung’s question. He knew his answer then, but now, Minho is fucking scared. So he clamps his teeth down on his lower lip and refuses to look back as he hurries away from Jisung’s house.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

  When Minho gets back to the house, Aunt Yoo isn’t home from work yet. So Minho takes the silence of the house and strips so he can take a shower and try to forget this afternoon, but ends up reliving the whole thing instead. Jisung’s hand on his shoulder as he taught Minho how to stand on the board while they still stood in the sand. Hugging Jisung when he finally got it right, and was so proud and happy because he did it. Jisung’s lips, soft and gentle and salty but sweet. Everything that Minho was expecting but also a surprise in every way.

 

  Minho turns the water on as hot as he can manage without it hurting himself, and watches as his skin steams and turns pink under the pressure. 

 

  There’s a hollow thunk when Minho leans his head back against the tile walls of the shower, and he pushes his hair out of his face, groaning and squeezing his eyes shut.

 

   _You shouldn’t have kissed him._

 

_You kissed a boy._

 

 _You_ liked _kissing a boy._

 

_You._

 

The water turns cold all too fast, and Minho has to jump out far before he’s ready to step back into the real world past the four walls of the shower, but what’s fucking new. His emotions are a mess of confusion and static and the thought that he just wants to sleep whatever this is off, but at the same time he’s buzzing with energy and he can't get the thought of Jisung out of his head.

 

  Minho isn’t gentle when he dries his hair, leaving red marks across his skin from where he rubbed the towel too rough, the brush tugging painfully on his scalp when he rakes it through the tangles.

 

  “-Minho, hey bud!” Yoo’s voice calls out, and Minho looks over to see Aunt Yoo holding his wrist with a worried look. “You gotta be nice to yourself Min, you know that... Is something going on that we have to talk about?”

 

_You kissed him._

 

“I know, and no. There's nothing—” Minho says, and his lips begin to tremble. He presses his hand over them in a attempt to hide it, but he knows that Yoo saw.

 

   Yoo takes the brush from him and brushes out the last clump of tangles Minho had been struggling on, and it's when the first tears spill over and down Minho's cheeks that Yoo pulls him into a hug. Minho can hear the frown in her voice when she speaks, barely audible over the way Minho sobs and shakes in her arms. A slow roll of emotions that become a tidal wave once the first tear falls.

 

  “Oh sweetheart,” Yoo coos, holding Minho comfortingly. “Come on, let’s get you comfy, you just let all those pesky tears out.”

 

  Aunt Yoo is quick to drag Minho’s blanket out of his room and wrap it around his shoulders where he sits on the couch, handing him a box of tissues and setting the bin beside him so he can toss them.

 

  Minho’s eyes are puffy and red by the time she comes back with a stack of DVDs and two mugs of tea for them.

 

  “I think I like someone.” Minho croaks once the tears let up some, watching the opening theme of Friends play on the screen. Because Yoo owns the box set of every season. They’ve been watching it whenever they can, mostly while they eat dinner together. Minho wasn’t lying when he told Jisung he loved it.

 

  “Okay,” Yoo nods, plopping down onto the couch beside Minho and letting him rest his head on her shoulder as they both sip on their tea. “Do you wanna tell me who it is?”

 

  “No.” Minho’s says, and his voice breaks.

 

  Yoo strokes his hair comfortingly, looking down at him and nodding. “Okay… You weren’t hurt were you?”

 

  Minho shakes his head, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

 

  “Ah,” Is all Yoo says.

 

  They watch in silence for a while, until Minho’s tears turn into scarce sniffles and their mugs sits empty on the coffee table with the leftovers they ate for dinner. Minho hasn’t really been paying attention to the television, not since he and Yoo started talking. It started about nothing, Yoo asking about Minho’s day but skirting around anything that might have to do with what was happening.

 

  “Did I ever tell you about my ex fiance?” Yoo asks suddenly,  and Minho shakes his head. She had mentioned an old relationship once or twice, and there were small things littered around the house in odd places that always made Minho curious, but she had never said anything about a fiance of all things.

 

  “I won’t bore you with the details of our epic yet tragic love story,” Yoo’s voice takes on a joking tone, but Minho can hear the sadness. “But we loved each other very much, you know? I think I loved him more than anything—Well, there were a few exceptions, but that’s not important.”

 

  “What happened?” Minho asks, looking up at Yoo curiously. She has a far off look in her eyes, but she refocuses when she looks at Minho.

 

  “It just didn’t work out I’m afraid. He had big things going on in his life, was traveling and moving, and I had my own things to do in Seoul at the time. Things that were more important to me than he was.”

 

  Minho’s eyebrows furrow together, but he doesn’t want to pry. “That sounds like it would suck.”

 

  Yoo breaks out into a small bout of laughter, and Minho notices that her eyes are a little wet, but she blinks the unshed tears away quickly. “Yeah, it really did suck. I don’t regret it though.”

 

  “What were you doing in Seoul?”

 

  “Ask me that when you’re older, then I’ll give you the answer.” Yoo pats him on the head, and Minho nods in understanding. He knows what it’s like needing time, even if things might’ve happened ages ago.

 

  Minho doesn’t say anything at first, he’s not sure if there’s anything he _should_ say in this situation. “Feelings are hard.”

 

  “You don’t know the half of it kiddo.”

 

  Minho’s eyes are still rimmed red from crying as he helps Yoo wash the dishes and clean up, and they have Yoo’s old radio hooked up and playing old songs that Minho doesn’t know at all, but Yoo sings every word religiously and it’s honestly kind of funny. It’s almost ten at night, but they have all the windows open so the song carries out over the beach, and Minho shrieks when Yoo flicks water at him when he’s in the middle of drying off a plate.

 

  “That was rude.” Minho says as he grumbles complaints under his breath, wiping the suds off his cheek and putting the plate in the cupboard where it belongs.

 

  “Sorry sweetheart,” Yoo chuckles, ruffling Minho’s hair with her now dry hands.

 

 

 

  “Hey, Yoo?”

 

 “Yeah?”

 

  Minho stares down at the mug in his hands, teeth digging into his lower lip as he hesitates.

 

  _You kissed him._

 

_You like him._

 

_You like a boy._

 

“I like a boy.” Minho says, and feels his throat close up right after, his hands trembling as he grips the mug so tight he’s almost afraid it will shatter in his hands. He can’t relax though, because he said it and he’s terrified because it’s not in his head and it’s not _You_ , but _I_ and _Me_ and Minho feels like he’s suffocating.

 

  Then there’s a gentle hand on his back, and another taking the mug from him, and all the sudden Yoo is standing in front of Minho, and she’s looking at him with an expression he can't figure out, and he doesn’t know what she’s thinking and he wishes he hadn’t said it, but he did.

 

  “Minho, is he a _nice_ boy?”

 

  The question takes Minho off guard, because he wasn’t expecting a question that consisted of more than one word.

 

  Yes. Jisung is a nice boy, he’s amazing. He’s sweet and funny and kind and Minho doesn’t know what love feels like but Jisung makes him happy. So, unbearably, happy that Minho sometimes feels like he could explode just from seeing Jisung smile. Minho is a grey day and Jisung is the fucking sun, and Minho hates that poetic shit but it’s true and Yes. Jisung is so fucking nice.

 

  But Minho can’t bring himself to articulate that, so he just nods, and the tears spill over again when Yoo pulls him into another crushing hug.

 

  “Then that’s perfectly okay, sweetheart.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  Minho rolls over in bed, the light from his phone screen casting faint shadows across the dark room. The cursor blinks in front of him, taunting him with the words he’s been typing and deleting for almost an hour now.

  


 

 

    > 23:37

Hey.

I don't regret it.

I thought you should know.

  
  


 

  Minho holds his breath when he presses Send, and tosses his phone to the other side of the room once the screen goes dark. The thought of reading Jisung’s response, if he even get one, fills him with a weird twisting in his stomach and Minho doesn't know whether it's a good thing or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol ur welcome
> 
> bye bitches see y'all next time


	12. your sweet desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no warnings just go
> 
> actually some sad stuff but what's new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAA MIROH WAS FUCKING AMAZING I DIED
> 
>  
> 
> anyways i wrote most of this with 2 hours of sleep in me
> 
> also i probably won't be updating this fic for a week or so because school is hitting ya boy hard and i ain't doing good lads
> 
> o well
> 
> enjoy! <3

_“You don’t think she like, swam away do you?”_

 

Hyunjin’s voice crackles over the bad reception of the phone call, and if he were really here, Minho thinks he would have flicked Hyunjin right in the middle of the forehead by now for being such an idiot.

 

  “She didn’t fucking swim away, she just hasn’t been coming around lately. I’m worried.” Minho says, picking his way around an overgrown thorn bush that reaches out over half of the poorly beaten path. So far he’s only suffered a few scrapes on his calves, though one on his right knee is still oozing blood half an hour later. It’s kind of grossing him out. The city doesn’t have thorn bushes, not unless you’re looking to go out into the backwoods of one of the older parks that no one really cares for anymore, but Minho never really found himself on that side of town.

 

  He feels like a baby deer trying to walk through all the shit that’s blocking the path, far too uncertain and wobbling every other step.

 

 _“Honestly I’m amazed we still have a connection, I give it five more minutes.”_ Hyunjin comments, and Minho puts the phone on speaker so he doesn’t have to listen to Hyunjin chewing right in his goddamn ear.

 

  Minho ignores him though, and goes back to the task at hand.

 

  “Soonie, you around here?”

 

   _“I don’t think she’s going to respond dude.”_

 

  For the past half hour or so Minho has been walking the area that surrounds the house and trying to find Soonie anywhere. He hasn’t seen her in almost a week, and he’s really starting to miss waking up to her cold nose in his neck as she uses him for his warmth. She’d been one of the constants since Minho first got here, and he knows that she’s technically a wild animal, but he’s grown attached.

 

  Not to mention he’s not the only one, Aunt Yoo is noticing her absence as well, every time she goes to change the small dish of food they always leave out for her, only to find it untouched.

 

  “Yeah, I know,” Minho says, letting out a long sigh when he looks up and sees that the sun has passed the highest point in the sky. It’s starting to get late, and he has plans for tonight. “I don’t even know where I am now though, if I’m being honest.”

 

  It’s the truth, even though it’s been a little more than a month he still doesn’t know his way around the island besides _most_ of the boys houses (he’s almost sure he knows where Felix and Chan stay, but couldn’t tell you where Woojin or Jeongin lived for the life of him) and the town. Other than that it’s a mystery. He knows he’s been moving uphill for about fifteen minutes, but that’s more because when he looks out back down the path, a break in the trees shows him the ocean far below him.

 

 _“Bro, you cannot go survivor on me, I have train tickets for next week! No not even, three days. You gotta stay alive until then.”_ Hyunjin whines through the phone, his voice muffled and Minho knows it’s because Hyunjin is talking with his mouth full, but he’ll give Hyunjin a pass this one time. It’s just because he’s sweaty and tired though.

 

  “I’m not gonna be out much longer, I have a… A thing tonight.”

 

  Minho’s voice gets suspiciously more quiet when he says the last part, and he knows that Hyunjin knows something is up as soon as there’s a prolonged silence on the other end of the call.

 

 _“A… Thing.”_ Hyunjin repeats, and Minho has to resist the urge to just nod in response because Hyunjin can’t see him.

 

  “Yes. A thing.”

 

   _“Do I want to know what this thing is?”_

 

“Nope.” Minho says cheerily, even though he feels butterflies begin to appear in his stomach because he knows Hyunjin will figure it out all too easily—he always does—and then he’ll start teasing Minho.

 

  _“Oh my god, wait.”_

 

  Shit.

 

   _“That dude, the one who kept giving me dirty looks—”_ Hyunjin releases a long dramatic gasp, and there’s a scuffling sound as Hyunjin must fumble around with his phone. _“It totally has something to do with him doesn’t it? I’m right aren’t I? Oh my god this is amazing Minho you’re finally getting out there-! Dude this is—”_

 

  “Whoops, bad reception I can’t hear you anymore sorry bye!” Minho scrambles to end the call, rushing out his goodbye to Hyunjin before slamming the End button.

 

  It’s only going to confirm Hyunjin’s suspicious, but Minho is too flustered to really care. Hyunjin has always been observant, Minho just didn’t realize it was _that_ obvious. He needs to start reigning in the heart eyes.

  


 

 

    HYUNJINNN 16:45

Hey do u know if felix and changbin are a thing????

 

    > 16:47

Why the fuck would I know that

I don’t think so, why?

 

    HYUNJINNN 16:49

So i know whether I have to be extra pretty

for Felix or not the next time I see him

Duh

 

    > 16:50

You’re a hoe, good luck

  


 

 

  Minho shuts his phone off after that, eyeing the battery percentage nervously as he walks further. There’s a part of him that knows he’s so far out here for a different reason, some part of his brain that’s hoping if he stays out long enough he’ll be late to dinner with Jisung’s family, because the thought of sitting at a silent table with Jisung’s family and having to pretend he isn’t fucking terrified is, well, fucking terrifying.

 

  Sure, he wants to see Jisung again. All he wants to do is see Jisung again, maybe to kiss him, maybe ask him why the fuck he wants to kiss him again so bad. Definitely to kiss him actually.

 

  Minho’s head has been a mess since the kiss, because all he can think of is how sweet Jisung was and the look in his eyes when Minho ran off because he’s a goddamn coward. He knows how he feels, but there’s a part of his head, the biggest part, that is telling him to shove it down. Don’t let your feelings get the best of you, because feeling things only brings hurt and you need to protect yourself.

 

  The thought of Jisung is almost enough to make Minho trip over an exposed root on the path.

 

  Maybe they could go on a walk sometime up here, it’s pretty.

 

  The sound of leaves rustling catches Minho’s attention, and he looks up to see movement further up the path. For a moment he stops, and has a scary thought about a bear coming out to eat him or something. Then he remembers this is a tiny island, and if there were bears Yoo would have probably told him at some point so he didn’t get mauled.

 

  “Hey, is that you Minho?”

 

  Minho recognizes Woojins voice, and then remembers someone mentioning that Woojin lived up on the mountain. Only he’s not alone.

 

  “Hi Woojin, hi Channie.” Minho waves, trying to hide the surprise on his face when he sees Chan standing beside Woojin with a pale blush on his face.

 

  The two young men look slightly awkward as they realize they’re not alone on the path.

 

  “What are you doing so far up here?” Chan asks, and his voice is slightly strained, almost breaking as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt.

 

  “Oh, I’m looking for my kitten. A kitten… Um.” Minho pauses and tries to think of what he wants to say, because he was not expecting to see anyone this far up the mountain and there’s something telling him that Woojin and Chan were in the same mindset. “There’s a kitten that comes around Yoo’s a lot, and I haven’t seen her in a while so I’m just kinda looking around.”

 

  Yeah, this is awkward.

 

  “Oh, is she orange?”

 

  Minho looks to Woojin, giving him a quick nod. “Yeah, have you seen her?”

 

  “Yeah, she showed up a week or so ago, I started feeding her and she just kinda stuck” Woojin smiles faintly, pulling his phone out and tapping the screen a few times. He hesitates a moment before handing it to Minho, who takes it and finds that it’s open to Woojin’s home screen.

 

  It’s Chan sitting on an old worn out couch, fluffy curls flying everywhere as he shoves his face full of popcorn. But upon close inspection Minho can see that there’s a small cat curled up on the blanket that covers Chan, and it really is Soonie.

 

  “Is this her?”

 

  “Yeah!” Minho grins, and notices how Woojin rubs the back of his neck, and Chan is definitely blushing like all hell. There’s definitely something going on here. But Minho is pretty sure everyone knows something is going on between Woojin and Chan, so is he really surprised?

 

  “She’s a sweetheart isn’t she?” Woojin asks, tilting his head affectionately at the image. “Did you have a name for her?”

 

  “Yoo named her Soonie.”

 

  It’s then that Minho sees the time, and realizes he can’t really dwell on Chan and Woojin being weird, because if he doesn’t get home soon he’ll barely have enough time to go through everything in his closet for something to wear to dinner tonight. At least now he knows that Soonie is really okay.

 

  “Crap, uh, I gotta go guys.”

 

  “Oh, really?” Chan says, a slightly worried look on his face. “So soon?”

 

  “Yeah, I have a thing. I’m uh—I’m going to eat dinner at Jisung’s today.” Minho says in a small voice, and he can’t help but smile at the thought because he’s really missed Jisung. Even if it’s been less than a day since they’ve last seen each other.

 

  The butterflies in his chest offset the sick feeling of anxiety, until Minho doesn’t even notice it anymore.

 

  “That’s awesome!” Chan says suddenly, and Minho looks up to see that Chan is looking at him with an excited expression. “I mean, Jisung’s mom is a super good cook. Just make sure you grab your food quick, Younghyun and Sung eat like monsters”

 

  “Oh, okay. I will, thanks.” Minho says, shuffling his feet a little and wondering whether he should just start walking.

 

  Woojin has moved back to his place next to Chan, and Minho has a sneaking suspicion that they’re holding hands, or at least have their pinkies linked together when Chan moves his hand behind his back a little, and Woojin’s hand follows.

 

  “I’ll just, go then.”

 

  “Bye Minho! You should come visit Soonie sometime,” Woojin and Chan wave goodbye, and turn to walk back the way they were coming form, and Minho does the same.

 

  He definitely sees some hand holding though.

 

  Seungmin and Jeongin are gonna freak.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  True to Minho’s worries, he completely demolishes his closet looking for an outfit.

 

  He knows that he technically doesn’t have to dress up in any way, but he doesn’t want to show up looking like a slob and make a bad impression on Jisung’s family, and there’s a small ugly voice in the back of his head urging him to look nice because what if Jisung decides the kiss was a mistake? There are plenty of girls far prettier than Minho on the island he’s sure of it, what’s to stop Jisung from changing his mind and going for one of them instead?

 

  Minho eventually decides on his favorite sweater, because it doesn’t look too bad on him, and because it brings him a certain feeling of comfort that he really needs right now.

 

  “Ready?” Yoo calls out, and Minho pokes his head out from behind his door to see Yoo sitting on the couch, legs pulled up to her knees and a book resting on them to save her page. She has her hands over her eyes, waiting for Minho to give her the ‘okay’.

 

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready for anything.” Minho mutters as he steps out, but it’s enough for Yoo to move her hands and let out a light gasp.

 

  “Sweetheart, you look great.”

 

  “Are you sure?” Minho gnaws at the inside of his lower lip, smoothing down the back of the sweater and twisting his ankle to check the shoes he’s wearing, because what if he tries to slide them off and they get stuck, and then he’s in Jisung’s front hall struggling to take his shoes off while everyone watches him and—

 

  “Minho, sweetheart, don’t start overthinking now.” Yoo says, but she says it with a gentle chuckle that puts Minho’s mind at ease, or at least close to it. “You look fine, and tonight you just have to be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

 

   _No one to impress except everyone._

 

  Minho knows it’s silly, but this is important to him. More important than he ever thought it would be.

 

  “You know you can always cancel if you want to.”

 

  “No, no. I can do this.” Minho shakes his head, taking deep breaths to calm himself as he goes to gather the tin of cookies he and Yoo made early this morning. Well, Yoo made them. Minho just sat on the couch watching Friends and licked the spoon like an asshole.

 

  “I know you can,” Yoo squishes him into a hug, rubbing his back in encouragement. “Go get em tiger. Let me know when you’re coming home, I can always come pick you up if you want.”

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


  The walk to Jisung’s house is pretty uneventful. Minho tries his best to shut most of his thoughts down, for fear of chickening out and running back home to hide in bed and watch youtube videos until he forgets tonight was every supposed to happen.

 

  They all come flooding back when he reaches the door though.

 

  Minho definitely spends at least ten minutes standing on the porch debating running away, surrounded by the faint rustle of leaves and the rolling waves against the beach at the edge of Jisung’s yard. Strangely, the noises comfort him, and he lets himself take a moment to breath before he raises his hand to knock.

 

  Inside and through the open windows, he can hear the faint laughter of Jisung’s mother and Younghyun’s deep voice saying something unintelligible from where Minho stands. It all stops when he raps on the door though, three short taps and he steps away quickly, hugging the cookie tin to his chest and silently thanking Yoo for choosing one that wouldn’t be crushed in is grip.

 

  _“Who the fuck is that-?”_

 

_“Jisung, language!”_

 

_“Get the door and find out, dumbass.”_

 

_“Younghyun! What did I just say?”_

 

  Minho can hear the argument from where he stands, but surprisingly there’s no anger in Eunjung’s voice when she reprimands Jisung and Younghyun. But there’s no time for Minho to really think of that, because all the sudden someone swings the door open and Minho is met by a shocked looking Jisung.

 

  “Minho-!” Jisung chokes out, jaw slack as he stares unabashedly.

 

  “Hi Sungie.” Minho says softly, taking in the boys appearance with a slightly shocked expression.

 

  Jisung is wearing blue striped boxers and a huge greyish green shirt that has more than one stain on it, and his hair is sticking up in all directions. He looks like he just woke up from a nap by the looks of his puffy eyes and the faint mark of fabric pressed into his cheek. Not to mention the remnants of blonde were gone from his hair, and instead it's a healthy brunet.

 

  “What—What are you doing here?” Jisung stumbles over his words, and Minho doesn’t think Jisung has blinked since he opened the door.

 

  “Your mom invited me to dinner yesterday, I hope that’s alright—”

 

  “Minho you came!” Eunjung turns the corner with a bright smile, wiping her hands off on the apron that is wrapped around her waist. “Oh, Jisung you look like a ragamuffin, I thought Younghyun was supposed to wake you up from your nap?”

 

  Eunjung looks over her shoulder and Minho catches sight of Younghyun down the hall watching the exchange, a emotionless expression on his face as he takes a bite out of a sliced pepper and shrugs.

 

  “Forgot I guess.”

 

  “You—!” Jisung clenches his fists, and looks like he’s about to go beat down on Younghyun any second before Eunjung interferes.

 

  “I’ll have no fighting before the table is set, now go clean up.” She waves her youngest son off, and beckons for Minho to step over the threshold. “Please, come in Minho. I’m so sorry about that.”

 

  “Don’t worry about it,” Minho says in a small voice, stepping inside and clearing his throat as he offers the cookie tin to Eunjung. “This is from me and my Aunt Yoo. Er, well, she did most of the work actually.”

 

  Eunjung laughs and pats Minho on the cheek, and it’s such a maternal gesture that Minho is taken off guard for a moment. “Oh don’t worry, Jisung and Younghyun are the same way. I’m sure they’re amazing though, I’ll put them away and we can have them after dinner.”

 

  Minho follows Eunjung into the kitchen, looking around the space with wide eyes.

  “Don’t be afraid to sit down, I’m sure Jisung will be back soon.”

 

  Eunjung pats the back of a seat at the counter, and Minho takes the invitation and makes himself comfortable while Eunjung goes back to cooking whatever is sizzling on the stove.

 

  Everything already set out on the table and whatever Eunjung is cooking now smells amazing, and the whole room is full of a warmth that Minho feels seep into his bones as the tension bleeds away. The light over the island in the middle are a warm yellowish color, but not the ugly kind that hurts Minho’s eyes. It’s soft, and it’s so unlike ‘family dinners’ at his own house that he’s kind of shocked. He finds himself almost comfortable to sit in the calm of the kitchen, catching glimpses of Younghyun switching over the laundry in the next room over, and hearing Eunjung hum along softly to the song playing over the old radio that’s set up on top of the refrigerator.

 

  There’s a faint thumping that sounds like someone is tumbling down the stairs, and then a louder _thwump_ , and Jisung whips around the corner with flushed cheeks. He catches himself on the edge of the counter and gives Minho a cute lopsided smile, to which Minho feels his heart flutter a little, taking in Jisung's new appearance with his freshly dyed hair.

 

  It makes him look older somehow, more professional without the old bleach and his roots growing out.

 

  “Just in time, dinner’s ready.”

 

  “Coming!” Younghyun calls from the laundry room.

 

  “Here, you can sit next to me.” Jisung tugs on Minho’s sleeve gently, pulling him over to the right side of the dinner table.

 

  Jisung’s hands are warm on  Minho’s shoulder, and he’s a perfect gentleman when he pulls out a chair for Minho to sit at.

 

  “Um, are you sure you don’t want some help?”

 

  “Don’t you dare, you’re our guest.” Eunjung interrupts, carrying over a steaming pan of grilled pork belly, and Minho’s stomach growls loudly when he smells the spices wafting up from it. Gosh he’s hungry, but he’s also admittedly nervous still.

 

  There’s something about the whole thing that doesn’t sit right with Minho, and not in a way that he thinks it’s a show. There’s something very honest and pure about Jisung and his family, and Minho thinks that’s just it. They really are a family, in ways that Minho has never really seen before. So there’s a part of his mind waiting for things to go wrong, for things to shift and become that familiar cold room, where all he can hear is the clinking of chopsticks on plates and the tapping of his parents phones as they send out emails until they all eventually leave the table without a word to each other.

 

  God Minho really wishes that part of his brain would shut the fuck up. It’s exhausting really.

 

  “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up.” Jisung hisses in Younghyun’s direction once their mother disappears back into the kitchen to grab an extra pair of chopsticks.

 

  “It was funny as hell though.”

 

  A faint whack breaks through the otherwise calm room, and Minho sees pain flash in Younghyun’s eyes as he pulls his knee up and winces. Jisung must’ve kicked him. Eunjung returns soon after though, so whatever challenge Jisung has presented is put off to the side.

 

  “Is dad gonna be home soon?”

 

  Minho is momentarily shocked when Younghyun and Jisung begin to pile food onto their plates without warning as soon as Eunjung sits down. They don’t wait, and Minho knows Jisung must see or at least notice his hesitation in some way, because he shifts his leg so their knees are touching. The touch sends a jolt of warmth up through Minho’s body, but it prompts him to pick up his chopsticks and start looking over all of the food.

 

  “The ferry was delayed, he said not to wait.” Eunjung says, but even Minho can sense the feeling of something missing at the table. A place where someone should be sitting, that Minho can’t fill by just being there.

 

  Minho piles the food onto his plate, and feels his throat close up sickeningly when he wonders why his own parents were never like that.

 

  Why weren’t their dinners like this? So effortlessly calm, and warm and safe. Simply sitting down at the table with Jisung’s family had Minho feeling so many different things. He and Yoo ate together pretty much every night. They just didn’t talk often, as they both were usually too invested in eating their food or watching the television with rapt attention. Minho liked it because it wasn’t the cold table, but a warm meal on the old couch in Yoo’s lounge. It was familiar without being the same.

 

  Jisung’s family is different though.

 

  They’re all talking and laughing, and Minho realizes he must have missed a joke while he was thinking.

 

  “I swear it was insane! It was this big!” Jisung holds his hands above his head, with wide earnest eyes that flicker over the table.

 

  Minho notices how Jisung’s plate has been carefully separated by food, so none of the different dishes are touching each other. Just like when he brought Minho food at the band practice so long ago. Minho finds himself smiling fondly at the memory, and Jisung’s apparent habit.

 

   _“Guess who’s home!”_ Someone calls out, and everyone at the table stops eating for a moment as a man walks through the door.

 

  He looks familiar to Minho, only he was much younger in the picture Minho saw of him. Years have left Jisung’s dads hair dusted with grey, and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from a lifetime of smiles and laughter.

 

  “How was work?” Younghyun asks as Jisungs father makes himself comfortable at the table, and Minho isn’t sure whether he should make his presence known to the family, who all seem to have forgotten about him for the moment. He’s not bothered by it, it’s interesting to watch them interact.

 

  Minho had never really been invited over peoples houses on his own before, not unless they were business dinners and his father wanted to show his son off to all of his colleagues.

 

  It's different. 

 

  “Oh, Minho you must think we’re so rude.” Eunjung says suddenly, and Minho looks up to shake his head quickly.

 

  “No, please, not at all.” Minho swallows too soon in his haste, and he looks around to see Jisung shoveling food into his cheeks as he chews, Younghyun dunking a chunk of meat into some sauce, and Eunjung with her hand over Jisung’s father’s wrist in a motion of affection for her husband.

 

  “This is, um… Sorry this is kind of new to me, my family isn’t like this at all.”

 

  Minho doesn’t elaborate, but there’s a moment of silence at the table, almost too quick to even know it was there. He doesn’t want any pity, he just doesn’t want them thinking he’s uncomfortable either. It’s all just different, and new to Minho. Not in a bad way though. Minho likes how comfy it is, he likes the warmth of Jisung’s knee against his own even when his own has been bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm for the past few minutes.

 

  “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Youngjin, Jisung’s dad.”

 

  Minho rushes to bow to Jisung’s father, unprepared for the impromptu greeting and the hand being pushed in his direction for him to shake.

 

  “Lee Minho, it’s nice to meet you.” And Minho means it when he says it.

 

 

 

 

  The rest of dinner goes by pretty smoothly after that, as everyone makes an effort to include Minho in conversations—explaining places and people they mention—and Minho makes an effort himself to engage. He rarely gets a chance to eat, he’s so caught up in the stories Youngjin tells of his day at work, and Jisung mentioning a crazy dream he had while taking a nap today. Something about an octopus with fifteen legs, sitting on top of Woojin’s house on the mountain and refusing to move until they scared it away with a huge grill.

 

  “That’s such bullshit-!” Younghyun cackles, almost choking on the noodles he has in his mouth.

 

  “Language—”

 

  “—I’m serious! I’m really serious!” Jisung insists.

 

  Minho is just finishing off his own plate, having taken to eating more slowly in favor of participating in the conversations at hand, and maybe looking at Jisung. A lot. It was only awkward one time when his eyes flickered past Jisung for just a moment, to find that Younghyun was watching him from his own seat. There was a mischievous yet fond glint in his dark eyes, offset by the smear of grease that went across his chin.

 

  Minho ducked his head and hid his blush behind a mouthful of kimchi.

 

  He felt bad that the family seemed to be waiting for him to finish his dinner before cleaning, but even after he cleaned his plate they probably stayed at the table for another half an hour just talking. It's less raucous now, more recounting the less hectic parts of their lives. Eunjung talked about a new song she heard on the radio, and Younghyun mentions hanging out with Jae and Sungjin on his break. And Jisung has his hand on Minho’s knee, fingers digging into the muscles and massaging them gently.

 

  At first Minho had been taken off guard by Jisung’s hand brushing against his thigh, but it was enough for him to still his leg.

 

  Jisung’s hand is gentle, movements almost thoughtless as he presses his thumb into an old sore knot from years of dancing, and Minho feels himself release a content sigh, because it feels really nice. There’s no motive behind the touch, and it warms Minho’s heart to know that.

 

  “Why don’t you two go up to Jisung’s room and hang out, Younghyun can help us with dinner.” Youngjin said once dinner began to wrap up, and Eunjung had already left the room to clean up from earlier.

 

  “Dad-!”

 

  “Oh come on Younghyun, you’ve missed plenty of dinners while off at college.” Youngjin rolls his eyes, but is smiling when he sees the unimpressed expression Younghyun is sending his way.

 

  Minho glances over to see Jisung looking at him, and they seem to have a silent conversation with each other for a moment before Minho gives him a small smile. Lips pressing together and quirking up the tiniest bit, but it makes Jisung break out into a bright smile, just a little bit crooked.

 

  “Sorry about my family, they’re kind of a lot I know.” Jisung says as he leads Minho to the stairs, a vaguely familiar path, but Minho is still uncertain about his way around the house. He’s only ever seen it during the day after all.

 

 “No, they’re nice.”

 

   _Better than my own._ Minho thinks, wrapping his arms around himself in a loose hug as he follows Jisung up the stairs.

 

  Something Minho had never really noticed about Jisung’s room before was that it had those little glow in the dark stars plastered all over Jisung’s ceiling. There were even a few that spilled out onto the walls here and there. They glowed faintly, and Minho knew that they must have been up there for a long time. Why Jisung still has them up, he doesn’t know, but he finds them charming in some way.

 

  Minho realizes he’s just standing in the middle of Jisung’s room like a weirdo, but when he turns to apologize to Jisung his words disappear suddenly.

 

  Jisung is leaning on his doorway, head tilted to the side and resting against the wooden frame. He has the ghost of a smile on his face, and he seems to be just watching. A far away look in his eyes, but at the same time he’s very present, because Jisung always is. He’s always there, even if Minho never really noticed it before. There’s something about his personality that seems to fill up the spaces that Minho lacks. Bright where Minho is dull, confident where Minho hangs back.

 

  “Hi.”

 

  “Hi.”

 

  Minho glances down at his socks, then back up at Jisung uncertainty. His hands are mostly hidden by the sleeves of his sweater, but he finds that he’s picking at his nails anyways.

 

  Jisung makes him feel small, but not in a bad way.

 

  He walks up to Minho slowly, not closing the door but letting it slide just enough that there’s only a little bit of space between it and the wall. The sounds from the rest of the house are muffled by the barrier, and reveals the rush of the waves that sound through Jisung’s open window behind Minho.

 

  “Can I kiss you?” Jisung asks, his voice small and once again vulnerable despite the confidence he holds himself with.

 

  “You don’t have to ask, you know.”

 

  “I want to ask, I like it when you say yes.” Jisung hums, cupping Minho’s cheeks and running his thumbs along Minho’s cheekbones tenderly. “That doesn’t mean you always have to say yes, I just like knowing you want this too. That it’s not just me.”

 

  “I know,” Minho says, because he really does.

 

  He’d spent ages going through the motions of this, never really knowing what _this_ was.

 

  Jisung’s hands, gentle and soothing. His breath fanning out over Minho’s face, no icky feeling spreading throughout Minho with every touch. Just a pleasant warmth that makes him want to hold Jisung and not let him go, so he can curl up in it and feel safe and cared for.

 

  Maybe loved.

 

  Not yet, but maybe.

 

  Jisung doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing anything soon though, eyes getting that little bit of distance to them that means Jisung is thinking. So Minho presses his hands over Jisung’s and leans forwards until their lips touch, barely a kiss, but enough to bring Jisung back and make his breath hitch.

 

  Jisung dives forwards after that, pressing his lips against Minho’s carefully, but with purpose. There’s warmth that spreads throughout Minho's body, but no real heat when Jisung cards his fingers through Minho’s hair, and Minho feels like he’s being filled up with energy, thrumming through his body and making his heart beat out of his chest. Jisung uses his hand where he cups Minho's cheek to tilt his head slightly, and Minho lets his hands slide up into Jisung's hair, enjoying how soft it is and the feeling of Jisung's lips moving against his own.

 

  Minho lets out a soft gasp when Jisung bites at his lower lip, but that seems to be the extent of Jisung’s confidence, because all the sudden Minho’s vision is full of a flushed Jisung who looks both proud of himself but shocked at the same time.

 

  It’s cute.

 

  “You’re cute.” Minho hums, running his tongue along his lower lip and biting back a knowing smile when Jisung follows the movement with almost morbid fascination.

 

  Minho’s heart is doing a whole damn gymnastics routine in his chest, but he finds it in him to be gentle when he slides his hands down to meet Jisung's and laces their fingers together carefully. Minho hesitates for a moment, but pushes Jisung so he’s sitting down on his bed. His cheeks are still flushed, and his lips are parted in something similar to awe as he watches Minho.

 

  There’s something that makes him want to press Jisung into the mattress and kiss the living daylights out of him, but Minho has been learning the hard way lately that not everything works like that.

 

  He makes himself comfortable beside Jisung, taking into account that Jisung is _Jisung,_ which means Minho wants to be careful. Because no matter how fragile Minho might be to Jisung, there’s a million and one ways Minho could hurt Jisung the same way, if not more.

 

  “Sungie, can I ask you a question?”

 

  All he gets is a nod, and silence, so Minho takes Jisung’s hands in his own again running his thumb over Jisung’s knuckles absentmindedly.

 

  “Why do you like me?” The question was meant to come out strong, confident, but it just sounds small and so, so scared. And it’s then that Minho can’t deny that under all the excitement of kisses and affection and _Jisung_ , he’s damn terrified. Terrified of being lied to, of being used, because even if Jisung doesn’t know things about Minho knows Jisung suspects things.

 

  “I told you, I like everything about you Minho.” Jisung says, almost out of breath as he watches Minho with dark wondering eyes.

 

  “But—” Minho swallows around the lump in his throat before his voice can crack. “But there’s, there’s nothing _to_ me.”

 

  Jisung’s hand squeezes his own reflexively, and Minho chances a glance up, but finds that Jisung’s face is void of his usual smile. There’s no lopsided grin, no twinkle in his eyes. There’s just a hard look, Jisung’s lips pressed together disapprovingly.

 

  “Minho, you’re beautiful, okay?” Jisung says, and leans down to press a firm kiss to the corner of Minho’s lips. “You’re beautiful, and you’re brave. Even when you’re scared, you put yourself out there, you have the best laugh in like, the whole universe. You’re bad at texting, like, seriously bad, but I could text you for hours because whenever you use that stupid smile emoji I know it’s because you’re really smiling on the other end of the screen.”

 

   And Minho thinks he might cry, because with each sentence, Jisung presses another kiss to Minho’s face.

 

  “You’re amazing at dancing, and there’s a whole part of you I feel like I haven’t met yet but I want to. I want to get to know you, everything about you if you’ll let me. I wanna know what will get you to laugh so hard you cry, I want to know what makes you smile so much it sticks, you know? So please don’t that there’s nothing to you, because there’s a million things I could mention off the top of my head.”

 

  And that’s how Minho died.

 

  Okay, not really, but he’s pretty sure he did cry at some point while Jisung spoke. The onslaught of emotion just wouldn’t stop, and Minho didn’t realize he started kissing Jisung again until he had Jisung pushed down onto the mattress.

 

  He breaks away to take a quick breath, and say, “I’m shit at talking, but I like you a whole fucking lot Sungie.”

 

  “I believe you—” Jisung says, making a small noise when Minho kisses him again, and again, and again because he can and Minho hopes that Jisung feels as happy as he does. The amount of affection he feels right now is nearly overpowering, and all he can do is pour it all into kissing Jisung.

 

  Jisung has his hands on Minho’s hips like an anchor, keeping him steady and sliding his thumbs up to brush over the strip of skin that shows whenever Minho shifts and his sweater gets more bunched up.

 

   _“Jisung!”_

 

Minho’s head snaps up when he hears Eunjung of all people calling for Jisung. Which is so not good, because as much as Minho is appreciating the view of an out of breath Jisung with swollen lips he doesn’t think Jisung’s mom will share the same sentiment. Minho might as well throw himself out the goddamn window.

 

  Jisung seems to recognize the panic in Minho’s eyes though, because he squeezes Minho’s shoulders carefully and presses a finger to his lips.

 

  “What is it mom?” Jisung sounds slightly out of breath, but not too suspicious.

 

   _“Jiyeon just called, she wanted to know if Minho would like to sleep over.”_

 

Jisung glances back up at Minho, at the same time Minho glances down to look at Jisung. Both of their gazes had been trained on Jisung’s door, which they had completely forgotten was not completely shut.

 

  “Do you want to?” Jisung asks in a quiet voice, so his mom can’t hear. “Just a sleepover I promise, no funny business.”

 

  Minho cracks a smile, and finds himself brushing a stray piece of hair off Jisung’s forehead and letting it join the rest of Jisung’s hair splayed out on his duvet. Minho loves how soft Jisung’s hair is now that he dyed over the bleach, and Minho thinks that he’d like to just run his fingers through Jisung’s hair for hours if he could.

 

  “If you don’t mind,” Minho manages a small shrug, and he feels his heart skip a beat when Jisung smiles, and pushes his body up to give Minho a peck on the lips.

 

  “Yes please!” Minho calls out, feeling a little mischievous as he kisses Jisung back.

 

   _Gosh, I really do like you, don’t I?_ Minho thinks to himself.


	13. break away waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS***  
> idk it's not explicit at all, just kissing and stuff but yanno i want y'all to be safe
> 
> also referenced underage drinking
> 
> and general angst that comes from minho's past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY AH
> 
> seriously, i didn't mean to be gone for so long. the good news though is that I passed all of my classes! and not even just passed, I did really damn good if you'll let me pat myself on the back shgfdjs
> 
> so yeah, i decided to take a bit longer of a break because that last week before grades closed took a lot out of me, and there's just been a bunch of (good) stuff happening to me lately that filled up my schedule
> 
> but i'm back with another chapter!
> 
> tbh i didn't mean for this to be as angsty as it turned out to be, but i'm actually happy with how this chapter turned out so I hope y'all enjoy it too!

  When Minho first wakes up, he doesn’t really remember that he’s not at home. The sound of the waves drag him out of his dream, muddled and too far away to remember even so soon after waking. There’s even the sound of someone walking around the kitchen, the small clinking of dishes against one another, only everything sounds more distant than it usually does.

 

  Minho makes a sleepy noise, and burrows his face into his pillow, hugging the clump of blankets that surrounds him and letting out a small yawn.

 

  “Mornin’,” Someone says, and Minho frowns, going to open his eyes but flinching away from the sudden brightness of the room around him.

 

  “Ugh,” Minho groans, and hears someone let out a small laugh before something blocks the sun, and Minho is finally able to peek through his eyelashes and figure out who the fuck is in his room with him.

 

  Then he realizes, he’s not in his room. He’s not at home.

 

  Minho is in Jisung’s bed, surrounded by Jisung’s blankets and pillows and wearing Jisung’s clothes, and when he opens his eyes there’s Jisung, watching him with a fond smile.

 

  “Hi.” Jisung smiles, his head propped up with his arm and his eyes trained on Minho as he slowly wakes up. “Did you sleep well?”

 

  The sound that Minho makes could mean anything, but Minho has never been a morning person, so he doesn’t bother correcting himself. Instead he reaches up and drags Jisung down to lay beside him, wiggling closer to the middle of the bed and curling up next to Jisung, because Jisung is warm and he smells nice and goddamnit Minho wants to cuddle something besides a blanket or pillow right now.

 

  Thankfully, Jisung seems to get the memo, and allows their legs to tangle together. He presses his hand to Minho’s cheek, and Minho hums when he feels Jisung’s fingers playing with the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck.

 

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Jisung says, his smile bleeding into his voice as Minho drifts between consciousness and sleep for a few more minutes.

 

  “You talk too much in the morning,” Minho grumbles under his breath, covering his mouth with his hand so Jisung isn’t subject to his nasty morning breath. Minho isn’t evil after all. Jisung doesn’t seem to appreciate Minho’s kind heart though, because he tugs Minho’s hand away from his face and presses a small kiss to his nose and asks,

 

  “Can I kiss you?”

 

  Minho won’t tell Jisung that every time he asks, his heart skips a beat because it’s so cute.

 

  “I have morning breath.” 

 

  “That’s okay,” Jisung says, and Minho isn’t able to respond before Jisung is hovering over him, holding himself with one hand while the other is pressed to Minho’s cheek.

 

  Minho knows he must look disgusting, his hair sticking up in all directions and hanging into his face unattractively. His breath is like death, and he knows there’s got to be some crusty shit in his eyes, but still despite all of that Jisung is looking at him like he’s the center of the universe. As if Minho could do no wrong, like the mess Jisung had under him was something to be cherished.

 

  “Stop staring,” Minho says through a pout, moving to cover his face again, but Jisung intercepts Minho’s hand with his own and laces their fingers together where he holds it captive against the mattress,

 

  “But you’re so pretty,” Jisung giggles, and leans down to kiss Minho.

 

  They start out small, purely innocent. Just Jisung pressing his lips against Minho’s and pulling away to stare more, but Minho has always had an impatient side to him, so it isn’t long before he uses his free hand to drag Jisung down into a proper kiss, morning breath be damned. He’ll give Jisung credit for not cringing, but he knows the kiss isn’t entirely pleasant because of it.

 

  “There’s a spare toothbrush on the bathroom counter if that will make you feel less guilty,” Jisung supplies helpfully, and Minho grins back at him. “My mom brought it after you fell asleep.”

 

  “Just wait ‘til I get back you asshole,”

 

  Minho throws the covers off and takes a moment to stretch his arms high over his head, and pretends that he doesn’t feel Jisung staring at him.

 

  Jisung’s gaze is strong, and Minho can’t really wrap his head around why, because he’s not even wearing anything _that_ revealing. The shirt he borrowed from Jisung easily covers his thighs, and the old shorts are literally the least sexy things he’s ever seen in his  life. There’s literally negative fifteen things that are attractive about this, about him, but when he looks back Jisung is watching him with the dopiest grin and such a fond look that Minho feels his entire body flush when he shuts himself in the bathroom.

  

  “Oh my god,” Minho whispers, and glances over his shoulder at the door to make sure it’s closed. His heart is beating a mile a minute, and when he presses his hands to his cheeks they feel like they’re on fire.

 

  Minho cringes when he sees himself in the mirror, a mess of sun streaked hair and a subtle sunburn across his cheeks and the tip of his nose from being out all day yesterday. The beginnings of a patch of acne on his right cheekbone.

 

  He tries to flatten his hair out, and almost manages, but it’s still unmanageably fluffy from Jisung running his fingers through it so much the night before.

 

  Last night honestly hadn’t been anything special, but at the same time it was something that Minho never wanted to forget.

 

  He and Jisung spent the entire time talking, Jisung’s old laptop propped open in front of them where they lay on their stomachs, munching on the cookies Yoo made earlier.

 

  They watched dumb movies all night, and Jisung seemed amazed to find that Minho had an account for almost every video streaming service that existed—courtesy of Minho’s parents and the constant boredom that plagued him back in the city on the nights he couldn’t sleep. Almost every single show had a _Continue Watching_ option, because Minho had watched them all on his own at some point. But he digresses.

 

  At some point Minho’s shorts became too uncomfortable to stay in, so Jisung gave him clothes to borrow, which led to more kissing and a smiley Jisung.

 

  That’s how they ended up with Jisung wrapped up in Minho’s arms, watching an episode to a show neither of them knew the name of. Not that it mattered, since the laptop had been on mute ever since they started kissing, only to be interrupted by some actress screaming her head off.

 

  “You’re so pretty,” Jisung said at one point, playing with Minho’s hair with deft fingers.

 

  “M’not.” Minho sighed, peeking through one eye to see Jisung looking at him with a frown. Jisung had moved himself so he was laying on top of Minho, resting his chin on Minho’s chest and releasing a long exasperated sigh.

 

  Minho had started to grow tired some twenty minutes before, and had dragged Jisung down with him to burrow into the blankets and close his eyes.

 

  “Why do you say that stuff?” Jisung asked, and if Minho is being honest, the question took him by surprise.

 

  “What do you mean?”

 

  “You’re always putting yourself down, I don’t even think you notice you’re doing it.” Jisung said, eyebrows knit together as he ran his thumb over Minho’s cheekbone gently. “Everything you do, you try and make yourself small, like you don’t think people want to see you. It’s stupid, cause you have one of the most beautiful personalities I’ve ever seen in a person.”

 

   _Who fucking says that?_ Minho thinks as he rinses his mouth out of the minty toothpaste.

 

  Last night Jisung had said so many kind things to him between kisses, things that made Minho feel out of breath, like he was walking on air. Each word was spoken with such genuine honesty, Minho couldn’t _not_ believe that Jisung meant them. And even when Jisung said Minho was _pretty_ it wasn’t the only thing he had to say about Minho,

 

_Breathtaking laugh, beautiful personality, amazing sense of humor._

 

Someone knocks at the bathroom door, and Minho makes a noise of acknowledgement, trying to get his mouth as clean as possible so he can kiss Jisung guilt free when he finishes.

 

  “My mom came by, she’s gotta go to work soon but she said Younghyun is making breakfast. Do you like eggs?” Jisung says through the door, voice slightly muffled through the old wood.

 

  “Can he make scrambled?” Minho asks in a hopeful tone of voice after he spits into the basin.

 

  “Yep! I’ll go tell him, you can come down whenever you feel ready. Oh, and it’s kinda cold in the morning with the wind today, I have sweaters in my closet if you want to borrow one.”

 

  “Okay, thanks!”

 

   Minho takes his time to fix his hair, even though he can’t really do much to keep it from sticking up. He put too much gel in it the night before in an attempt to keep it nice, so it’s pretty much stuck as it is. His face burns a little when he brushes his fingers over the marks left from the sun, but he knows Yoo has aloe somewhere in her medicine cabinet back home. A few more hours without it won’t kill him.

 

  Jisung’s room is uncharacteristically silent when Minho steps out, the blankets on the bed haphazardly thrown back and a pillow on the ground. Minho lets out a small chuckle as he sets it back on the bed, and turns to Jisung’s closet.

 

  He still has Jisung’s sweater from last time, but something tells Minho that Jisung doesn’t exactly mind Minho in his clothes. Oh well, it’s not like Minho is complaining.

 

  Jisung likes oversized things, so all of his clothes fit Minho well since his shoulders are broader. Just too big to fit perfectly but comfy all the same, not to mention all of Jisung’s clothing smell like him, which is definitely a bonus. Or at least Minho thinks it is as he pulls on one of Jisung’s hoodies, an old black lump of fabric that says _Save The Bees!_ In faded yellow letters.

 

  The house is mostly silent when Minho steps out of Jisung’s room, though he can hear someone shuffling around in the room to the right of Jisung’s, and the hum of the radio playing in the kitchen.

 

  Something heavy and melancholic settles over Minho’s heart, and he’s not too sure why.

  Maybe he just wants another thing he can never have.

 

  He picks his way down the stairs carefully, lips quirking up when he hears Jisung humming and mumbling the words to the song playing.

 

  “Hey sweetie, I’ve gotta rush out, Minho can stay if he wants, just make sure you both eat breakfast—Younghyun will be home all day if you need anything.”

 

   Eunjung turns the corner quickly, rifling through her purse as if she’s in a rush. It seems like it, especially when she’s too distracted to notice that Minho is Minho, and not Jisung. Needless to say, Minho is kind of left in shock when Eunjung ruffles his hair and kisses his forehead thoughtlessly.

 

  “Um,” Minho says, and watches as realization bleeds into Eunjung’s eyes.

 

  “Oh Minho! I’m so sorry, Jisung wears that sweatshirt all the time, I just assumed—Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” Eunjung rushes out an apology, and Minho doesn’t know what to say.

 

   _Oh you’re fine, I’m just in shock because that’s probably the most motherly thing anyone has done to me in my entire life? I’m in shock because my mother has never ruffled my hair like that, or even kissed my cheek once in the entire time I’ve been on this earth and all the sudden I feel like I might cry, but this is fine. I’m fine._

 

Minho gets himself together though, giving Eunjung a smile. “No worries, you seem preoccupied.”

 

  “You have no idea,” Eunjung chuckles, “I’m running late _again_ , so I’ve been rushing all morning. I actually really should go now, and I’m sorry again, Minho.”

  


  Minho feels his heart squeeze painfully, and he fights the urge to slap himself. Eungjung is probably more embarrassed about it than he is, and even then he’s not even embarrassed, he’s just weird about stuff like that. Hell, Minho still feels weird about giving hugs to people.

 

  He rubs the back of his neck as he walks into the kitchen, sick of the strange tingles in the back of his neck that run over his scalp. It’s not really anxiety, but something like it.

 

  Minho forgets all about it though when he sees Jisung standing by the stove, and when he realizes that the tank top Jisung is wearing shows off all of his shoulder and upper arm muscles, shocking Minho into silence. The thin fabric doing nothing and everything at the same time, though Minho does find it in him to admit the words on the back are undeniably something Jisung would wear, _Pray For Waves._

 

   _Well shit. That’s not attractive at all._ Minho thinks, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he starts to wonder what exactly Jisung could do with all those muscles.

 

  “Hey Ji—You wear glasses?”

 

  Jisung squeaks, and immediately goes to cover his eyes and take them off, but Minho is too quick. He grabs Jisung’s wrists, holding them in place as he stares at the thin silver frames that rest on Jisung’s nose perfectly. They make his eyes bigger, dark brown irises amplified so Minho can see each shift of color in them, even though the lenses are kind of cloudy from the steam rising from the pan Jisung had been standing over.

 

  “I didn’t want you to see,” Jisung says with a defeated sigh, “I know they make me look ugly.”

 

  “What? No, oh my god they’re perfect. You’re perfect. They make me want to kiss you even more now. I didn’t know that was even possible.” Words spill out of Minho’s mouth like a waterfall, and he can’t help his wandering hands as he gently pushes the glasses more snugly on Jisung’s face, giggling when Jisung’s eyes shrink a little bit from the proximity change.

 

  “You really like them?” Jisung asks in a hopeful voice, and Minho rolls his eyes, looping his arms around Jisung’s neck and running his fingers through Jisung's soft, freshly dyed, hair. Minho drags Jisung into a sloppy morning kiss that Minho has no qualms about now that his breath is minty fucking fresh..

 

  “You fucking—Walk around wearing a shirt like this, and then turn around looking fucking adorable with your glasses and expect me to not like it?” Minho says in an incredulous tone. He’ll have to remember to compliment Jisung on it later, cause the brown is really fucking cute on him.

 

  Minho pulls away quickly when he hears footsteps approaching the kitchen, but Jisung catches a handful of Minho’s sweater to keep him from going to far.

 

  “Yo,” Younghyun greets them, a flannel slung over his arm as he peeks around the doorway, but Minho is having trouble focusing as his heart pounds and his face flushes a bright red color. “I dunno what mom said but I’m not babysitting you two, so don’t break any of my stuff. Oh, and I left out the old speaker if you wanna use it.”

 

  Then they’re alone again.

 

  “Is your house always such a whirlwind?” Minho asks, almost breathlessly. He nearly had a heart attack thinking of Younghyun catching them.

 

  “Yeah, most of the time.” Jisung says through a bright grin, sliding his arms around Minho’s waist and resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder. Minho feels his heart skip a beat. “Why, not used to so many people?”

 

  “Uh, not really.”

 

 _I’m kind of used to being completely alone for most of the day, no, most of the year actually_. Minho thinks, but he doesn’t say it. Cause even if he could laugh at it, he knows it would just make Jisung frown, and Minho has found that he really hates it when Jisung isn’t happy.

 

  “So, wanna make out and play some video games?” Jisung asks, and Minho lets out an ugly snort.

 

  “Wow, so eloquent.”

 

  “I know right?” Jisung grins and tugs on Minho’s arm, dragging him into the living room. He let’s go of Minho’s hand, and starts towards the television to turn it on but seems to remember something before he can go too far. Minho makes a pleased noise when Jisung plants his lips onto Minho’s, a deep kiss that sends Minho’s heart into palpitations and his head spinning.

 

  “I can’t believe I can just do that now,” Jisung grins, and Minho thinks he would swoon if he didn’t have some dignity in him.

 

  “Oh, well believe it.”

 

  That’s probably how they end up on the couch, Jisung trying, and _failing_ , to kiss Minho _while_ he plays Mario Kart, but in the end Minho is just impressed that Jisung doesn’t fall off the track once. Though he did elbow Minho off the couch when he lunged for a kiss on the cheek.

 

  Jisung is a giggling mess as he tries to apologize, acting like he didn’t do it on purpose to get himself out of last place.

 

  “You’re a little menace you know that?” Minho groans as he shoves Jisung off him, tossing his controller off to the side and leaning back onto his arms. He lets his head fall to the side, sending a playful glare in Jisung’s direction.

 

  “Too much of a menace to apologize with a kiss?”

 

  “I think you keep me on for the lip service, you don’t even really care about me.” Minho teases, and shrieks when Jisung lunges towards him. He scrambles to his feet and grabs the nearest weapon, which happens to be a throw pillow they had shoved onto the ground so they could sprawl out while they played games.

 

  Minho tosses it at Jisung, hitting him square in the face.

 

  “Get back here!” Jisung calls out, and Minho shrieks again, climbing over the back of the couch to sprint into the kitchen.

 

  “You’ll never catch me al— _Fuck!”_ Minho swears when Jisung wraps his arms around Minho’s waist, dragging him back into the living room and into his arms.

 

  “Gotcha,” Jisung says, and Minho looks up to see Jisung looking down at him with a fond smile.

 

  The world spins on its axis for a moment, and Minho on reflex tightens his grip on Jisung, arms flying out to wrap around his neck as Jisung shifts his grip so he’s holding Minho bridal style. It honestly should hurt Minho’s pride some to be lifted so easily by someone who is shorter and smaller than him in stature, but he can’t really think up a coherent thought.

 

  “—inho, Minho?”

 

  “Yeah what?” Minho doesn’t look up from where he’s staring at Jisung’s biceps. His cheeks feel like they’re actually burning, and he has half the mind to tell Jisung to lean back so he doesn’t get the hair singed off his face.

 

  “You spaced out there for a minute.”

 

  “Oh, sorry.”

 

  “You’re looking a little sunburnt, do you want some aloe?” Jisung asks, and Minho nods quickly, anything to save him the embarrassment of telling Jisung that him holding Minho like this is kinda hot. Even though Minho is kind of bigger than Jisung, and he’s almost wondering how he hasn’t squished Jisung yet.

 

  “Yeah that’d be good,” Minho says breathlessly, expecting Jisung to set him down, but instead Jisung just adjusts his grip again and carries Minho into the kitchen.

 

  “W-what are you doing?”

 

  “Getting you aloe, duh.” Jisung says it like it’s obvious, an expression of concentration on his face as he sets Minho down _on the goddamn counter_ and pats his thigh comfortingly. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

 

  Minho watches Jisung disappear around the corner with wide eyes, pressing his hand to his cheek to feel the heat rolling off his skin in waves.

 

  There’s a part of him that’s ready to grab his phone and ask Hyunjin what to do exactly in a situation like this, because it’s just hitting Minho now that he doesn’t really know what to do past kissing, and all of this domestic shit Jisung has been throwing at him is like curveball after curveball.

 

  “ _You just, sorry, you just seem more experienced? So, maybe I was bad at it or something…”_

 

  Minho remembers Jisung saying that after their first kiss, and he wishes he could have told Jisung that he was so wrong. Minho is the inexperienced one here, he has no idea how to respond to any of Jisung’s hugs most of the time, or Jisung wanting to hold his hand. Hell, Minho hadn’t even thought of telling his _parents_ about Jisung.

 

  What would they say if they knew how much Minho liked Jisung? How much he liked a _boy._ Because he knows that would be the only thing they paid attention to. That Jisung wasn’t a pretty girl they could pick out for Minho to marry when he finally graduated, a wedding that would be a glorified fitting for the cement boots they had been creating for him ever since he was born. Boots to drag him far far away from all of his friends, from Yoo, and worst of all, from Jisung.

 

  Minho doesn’t even realize Jisung had come back until he looks up and sees Jisung looking at him with wide eyes, and it takes another minute to realize that Jisung is talking to him, holding Minho’s hands and running his thumb over Minho’s knuckles soothingly.

 

  “Hey, you back?” Jisung asks in a soft voice, and Minho doesn’t think he can speak, so he just nods.

 

  He knows he’s still shaking, but when he tries to take his hands away from Jisung, Jisung just tightens his grip.

 

  “It’s okay,” Jisung says, “You don’t have to pull away, I got you.”

 

  “Okay,” Minho chokes out, dragging Jisung closer so he can hide his face in Jisung’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m—I didn’t mean to.”

 

  “What are you sorry for?” Jisung pets Minho’s head, wrapping his arms around Minho and holding him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

  “I ruined today, we were having fun and my dumb brain started _thinking_ and I got too caught up—” Minho breathes in shakily, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to hold back the tears that begin to prick at his eyes. “I’m just sorry, I ruined everything.”

 

  “Hey, can you look at me for a sec?”

 

  Minho hesitates, but lets go of Jisung, trying to rub the tears away. He knows he can’t get rid of the red rimming his eyes, but by god he’ll try if it’ll save him the embarrassment.

 

  “I don’t think you ruined everything, okay?” Jisung says, pushing Minho’s hair out of his face with gentle hands. “Now, how about I put some aloe on you, and you talk to me. How does that sound?”

 

  “Talk?”

 

  “Yeah, just talk. About anything.” Jisung shrugs as he pours some aloe onto his hand, using the other one to hold Minho’s bangs out of the way. “You can talk to me about what you were thinking about, or something else if you don’t wanna do that.”

 

  Minho closes his eyes and thinks for a moment, flinching away from Jisung’s cold fingers when he smears aloe over Minho’s sunburn.

 

  He's quiet for a while, because he doesn't know whether he wants to talk about it or not. Not to mention Jisung's hands are gentle against Minho's skin, and it soothes his anxiety some to know that he's still here, that Jisung is here for him. 

 

  “This is kind of domestic for two people who have only been kind-of-dating for like a week.” Minho comments, peeking open one eye to see Jisung trying to hide a smile. His voice is still thick from his small panic attack, but he manages to lace some humor in so he doesn't worry Jisung. 

 

  “Are you complaining?”

 

  “Who the fuck insinuated that?” Minho scoffs, reaching out and tapping Jisung’s wrist. “Keep going, my face is a crisp.”

 

  Jisung giggles, and leans forwards to kiss Minho on the nose, only to recoil and stick his tongue out in disgust.

 

  “Eugh, oh god that’s disgusting.”

 

  “Oh you poor baby,” Minho fakes a pout, until Jisung kisses him and he too is attacked by the awful taste of Aloe Vera in his mouth. “ _Oh my god that’s awful.”_

 

Panic attack forgotten, Minho let's Jisung finish putting the aloe on him. For fun Minho does the same to Jisung, who grabs two scrunchies from the bathroom so they can put their hair up into dumb ponytails on top of their heads that send them both into fits of giggles.

 

  It makes Minho’s heart race, but for a completely reason than it had before. Because every sweet gesture from Jisung is enough to make Minho's heart skip a beat, and on more than one occasion he has to remind himself to stop staring at Jisung, though it’s so easy to appreciate the slope of the boys nose, and the way he bites on his lower lip when he gets particularly into a level.

 

  Minho loses a lot, but Jisung seems to find it funny, and always has a kiss for Minho to “ _Make you feel better!_ ”

 

  “You know, you’re really affectionate.”

 

  “Do you… Not like it?” Minho asks hesitantly, feeling Jisung’s hands slide down to wrap Minho’s arms tighter around him, where they had pulled away when Jisung spoke.

 

  He hadn’t even noticed how much he had been clinging to Jisung throughout the day, thought right now he could see how it was kind of obvious. Jisung was leaning back against his chest as they lay on the couch, both of them huddled on their sides under a blanket while the television hummed across the room.

 

  “No, it’s nice. I just, kinda know I’m very touchy, and wanted to make sure you weren’t acting the same because you thought I would want you to—Which I do, just only if it’s a mutual thing… You know?”

 

  A small smile creeps onto Minho’s face as Jisung rambles, and he hugs Jisung tighter, forehead pressed against the back of Jisung’s head.

 

  “You’re warm, and it’s…” Minho says slowly, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “I’m not used to all the kisses, or the hugs if I'm being honest. I get... overwhelmed, but it’s easier when _I_ start.”

 

  Jisung is silent now, and the little fidgets he had been doing the entire time they cuddled have stopped. Jisung is like a statue in Minho’s arms, the only thing showing that he’s still alive is the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

 

  “I used to go to parties a lot,” Minho takes a shaky breath, hiding his face in Jisung’s neck and pressing his lips together when he feels Jisung squeeze his hands in an effort to comfort Minho. “I don’t know why, just sometimes… Sometimes it was nice, to have someone pay attention, to want to touch me. I didn’t like it, but at the same time I couldn’t stop.”

 

   _It was like a drug._ Minho thinks, remembering the stale taste of alcohol, and dark hallways that were nothing different than the ones back at the apartment. But sometimes he was able to pretend that clammy hands were warmer, and could twist rough kisses into something sweeter. Sometimes.

 

  “Minho?”

 

  “Yeah?”

 

  “It’s okay, cause you’re here now. Okay?”

 

  “Thanks Jisungie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i promise for a more regular update next time, and expect a new story entirely sometime soon
> 
> it's gonna be something funky and different for anyone who likes that kinda stuff lol
> 
> see y'all next time!


	14. like our summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fine!! for anyone worried, I just got a second job and took up another college course so i'm fucking,, swamped. but i promise i've been working on writing! 
> 
> i hope you all enjoy it <3

  “Excuse me, can I get a table?”

 

  Minho fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance, prepared to face another group of old people who pretend not to know how the damn diner works even though they probably haven’t stepped foot off the island in fifty plus years, and literally come here every other day to eat the same mush. Even though Chan makes an omelet so good that for a moment after his first bite, Minho considered leaving Jisung and seducing Chan for himself.

 

  He’s kidding. Well, it was a thought in his head. But then Jisung slid into the booth beside him and linked their pinkies under the table, and all was forgotten.

 

  Don’t get him wrong, Minho loves working at the diner. There’s something nice about being able to walk home from the diner with heavy eyelids and sore feet from walking around all morning. It’s better than getting home and not knowing what to do with himself. 

 

  “Of course, just give me one second,” Minho says, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he turns to greet the customer.

 

  “Surprise.”

 

  “Oh fuck you.” 

 

  Hyunjin grins at Minho, a bright show of teeth that almost makes up for the annoyance bubbling up in Minho. He fights back a smile as he smacks Hyunjin on the shoulder, the other boy laughing as he flinches away.

 

  “What, you aren’t happy to see me?”

 

  “I am, I just wish that for once you’d let me pick you up from the train station instead of setting up these dumb surprises!” Minho says, knowing his complaints are falling on deaf ears as Hyunjin drags him into a hug that Minho tries, albeit not very hard, to escape. In the end it’s nice though, to be surrounded by his dumbass friends lanky arms, and know that for the next few days, everyone he cares for the most in the world will be in the same place for a time. 

 

  “Fine, next time I come you can pick me up at the station alright?”

 

  “This is the last time you’re coming down dumbass.” Minho goes to flick Hyunjin, who artfully dodges. 

 

  “Not my fault summer isn’t longer,” Hyunjin lets out a long sigh, and Minho feels a pang of… something deep in his chest. Before he can really think about it though, someone clears their throat behind him.

 

  Minho turns to see Chan standing by one of the tables, eyebrow raised in suspicious and dish rag on his shoulder. He looks like a disapproving mother when he crosses his arms over his chest and looks between Hyunjin and Minho.

 

  “Sorry Chan, I got distracted I’ll—”

 

  “It’s fine Minho.” Chan breaks out into a grin, taking Minho’s server book and tucking it under his arm. “Take the rest of the day off, rushes don’t do weekdays around here.”

 

  “Thank you Chan, see you when you get out?” Minho fumbles with the

apron around his waist, catching the thumbs up that Chan gives him before disappearing off to take the order of the table that just showed up.

 

  “So, what do you want to do?”

 

  Hyunjin loops his arm with Minho’s, both of them falling into step as they walk away from the diner and through the middle of town in no particular direction. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. 

 

  While Hyunjin thinks, Minho glances around the town, as he had never actually been around at this time of day. He usually only came into town to grab Yoo’s mail every so often, and to go to work, where he was obviously inside the diner for his entire shift. So he’s surprised when he looks up and sees Jisung, of all people, jogging down the stairs of the surf shop across the street from the diner. Brown hair windswept, and dressed in the same rash guard that clings to his body and makes Minho oh so flustered.

 

  They make eye contact for a split second, and Minho watches Jisung do a double take, eyes locking on the sight of Hyunjin and Minho walking together. 

 

  Instead of what Minho now recognized to be jealousy, Minho watches as Jisung smiles at him, glancing over at Hyunjin and then winking at Minho before continuing off toward the docks and where Minho knows Jisung likes to surf with Changbin and Felix. 

 

  “Oh my god did you see that?” Hyunjin whisper yells, gripping Minho’s bicep and shaking him slightly. “He just winked! Isn’t the guy you said you—”   
  
  “Shush!” Minho scrambled to shut Hyunjin up, eyes flickering around the surrounding area to make sure no one heard Hyunjin freaking out. He is so not ready for the whole goddamn island to know anything about him and Jisung just yet. 

 

  “Minho, you’re blushing, oh my god, something is going on between you isn’t there. I swear to god if he’s some fuckboy who’s playing with your feelings or some het just looking to flirt and then break your heart I will fucking kill—”

 

  “Hyunjin!” Minho screeches, grabbing onto Hyunjin’s arm and dragging him faster out of town. “I will answer all of your questions as soon as we are  _ not _ ,  _ here _ !”

 

  Somehow, Hyunjin holds off his questions until they get to Yoo’s doorstep, but as soon as Minho fits his key in the lock and turns it, Hyunjin is bombarding him with everything he wants to know.

 

  “What’s his name?”

 

  “Jisung, but—”

 

  “Is he straight?”

 

  “If he is then we’re going to have a big problem, but—”

 

  “Oh my god what have you done with him? Is this like, a summer fling—?”

 

  “Hyunjin, please, let me finish my goddamn sentences.” Minho lets out a long huff as he opens the kitchen cabinets, rolling his eyes when Hyunjin snatches the chips right out from in front of him. 

 

  Minho can only be grateful that Yoo was out to lunch with some of her friends on the island. She knows that he has a crush on someone, but Minho is still trying to figure out a way to let her know that that someone is  _ Jisung _ . The kid she’s known since diapers apparently. 

 

  “I’m, well, I’m not really sure  _ what  _ it is to be honest.” Minho says as they settle down on his bed, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin up on his hand. He looks out the window wistfully. “He’s so sweet, and caring. I really like him, and he says he really likes me too, I’m just…”

 

  “You’re being cautious.” Hyunjin says, sounding more serious now than he has all day.

 

  “I  _ want _ to be, but at the same time I just, get so,  _ ugh _ whenever I’m with him.” Minho groans and falls back onto the bed with a huff of air, pouting as he glares up at his ceiling. “He smiles, and I’m just like, wow, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. He talks and I feel like I could listen for hours, and he’s so fucking  _ hot  _ you don’t even know Hwang Hyunjin.”

 

  “Wow, when did you become such an idiot for love?”

 

  Hyunjin screeches when Minho brings a pillow down on his face, taking the pillow away from Minho and rolling over so he’s hugging it under his chest.

 

  “It’s not—it’s not,  _ that _ … I don’t think so, not yet.” Minho runs his fingers through his hair, and pressing his hand against his warm cheek. He doesn’t think he’s in love with Jisung, but just having Hyunjin insinuate that is making his stomach erupt in butterflies. “If you call me an idiot again I’m not gonna share any more secrets.”

 

  “Oh come on,” Hyunjin whines, sticking out his bottom lip as Minho rolls away to check his phone, which had begun to vibrate.

  
  
  


    JEONGIN 12:27

hey! A bunch of us are hanging out

If u wanna come we’ll be by the beach

Chan said ur friend was here

He was cool

So don’t worry about bringing him

We like him lol

  
  


  “Who was it? Is it your boy?” Hyunjin asks as he tries to peer of Minho’s shoulder. 

 

  Minho just scoffs and turns the phone over so Hyunjin can read the messages. “No, just Jeongin inviting us to hang out. You wanna go?”

 

  “Lee Minho, I am about to make you the most irresistible man on this island.” Hyunjin says solemnly.

 

  “I can’t wear those!”

 

  “And why not?”

 

  “They’re way too short!”

 

  “Oh please, they’ll show like, three inches of thigh. That’s like, nothing. Hey! Get back here!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  The beach is bright, and for the first time it really seems like summer as Hyunjin and Minho pick their way off the main road and down over the dunes of sand where the rest of the guys bask in the sun like cats, or shriek and dive through the waves of the ocean. 

 

  Chan and Seungmin are huddled under a big umbrella propped up in the sand, Chan seemingly asleep on his stomach while Seungmin is hunched over a book, a floppy sun hat shielding his face. Changbin is settled in a lawn chair, sunglasses on his face as he sunbathes with his arms crossed over his chest (which Minho finds sort of counterproductive). Jeongin is out in the water wrestling with Felix, while Woojin seems to be hanging around the shore poking around for shells in the silt of the sand bed. 

 

  It takes Minho a second, but he eventually finds himself drawn to Jisung, sitting in the sand with crossed legs, cheek squished against his hand he leans on. With his other he seems to be drawing something in the sand, a semi bored-thoughtful look in his eyes, he doesn’t seem to notice their arrival.

 

  “Minho!” Felix yells from the edge of the surf, using his whole arm to wave wildly before a wall of water is splashed at him by Jeongin. 

 

  Jisung perks up at that, almost like a puppy when he catches sight of Minho and Hyunjin approaching. 

 

  Out on the water Minho hears a whistle, and he glances over to see Woojin beckoning for Felix and Jeongin to come back in from where they were out swimming. In almost no time they’re all gathered around the towels and beach umbrella, and for the first time in a long while Minho feels like everything in shifting into place.  

 

  Some of the most important people in his life, all in the same place. It’s new but he likes it, likes being able to watch Hyunjin drop his bag and settle down beside Chan and Seungmin, engaging in a conversation as easy as breathing. 

 

  Minho glances over at Jisung, catching sight of the smile slowly growing on his face.

 

  “Hey, d’you have a good day so far?” Jisung asks when Minho sits beside him with a soft thump, pulling his legs to his chest and burying his feet in the sand. Minho hums noncommittally. 

 

  His day has been fine so far, but he could really go for a sweet kiss from Jisung if he’s being honest, if he wasn’t such a coward.

 

  “Yeah, same here pretty much.” Jisung says, glancing over in the direction of the rest of the guys. 

 

  With Hyunjin here everyone seems caught up in reconnecting and saying hello, Changbin’s eyes trained on Hyunjin with a look he hadn’t recognized before, but now that Minho thinks about it he might have seen it in himself once or twice around a certain island boy. Though a few paces behind Changbin, Minho notices Felix watching with eyebrows knit together, lips pressed into a fine line. He looks sad, as if he wants to say something, but is slowly giving up on being heard.

 

  Minho clears his throat, catching Hyunjin's attention (thankfully) and tilting his head in Felix’s direction to prompt Hyunjin to do something. Because if his friend is gonna go for the gold and catch both those boys hearts by god he better not shatter both of them in the process, or Minho might actually kill him. 

 

  “Hey Felix, Minho says you surf, right?” Hyunjin perks up as he speaks, and Minho watches Felix go through a few different emotions before he realizes that he should answer. 

 

  Surprise, confusion, suspicion. 

 

  “We both do!” Changbin pipes up, and Minho is ready to watch everything crash and burn, but surprisingly, Felix just nods and glances between Changbin and Hyunjin with a shy gaze.

 

  “We can show you our boards later if you want,” He says, and it’s probably the first time Felix has ever looked so shy and nervous when speaking. It’s almost endearing.

 

  “I’d love that,” Hyunjin almost purrs, laying it on thick as he stands close to Felix. 

 

_ Get a fucking room.  _ Minho thinks to himself as he averts his eyes with a ‘look’. He catches a glimpse of Jisung watching him, and smacks the boys shoulder when he sees that Jisung is silently laughing at him. 

 

  “Shut up!” Minho forces his own laughter down, refusing to let Jisung win. 

 

  “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

 

  “I am not flustered!” Minho hisses under his breath, eyes flickering over to the rest of the group when he feels Jisung slide his arm around his waist to hold Minho loosely. Their knees knock together, and a shiver runs down Minho’s spine when he sees that there’s little to no space between them. 

 

  “Whatever you say,” Jisung says, and Minho knows Jisung is smiling, but he lets it be as the rest of the guys run down to the surf. A boat drives by, and creates huge waves for them to splash in. 

 

  They stay like that for a while, as it’s just the two of them (and Seungmin with his nose stuck in his book) further up on shore. Minho relaxes more and more into Jisung’s side as time passes, and he thinks he could fall asleep for a millennia in the warm sand and with Jisung beside him. It’s a lovely feeling, burying his toes in the sand and leaning his head into the crook of Jisung’s neck ever so slightly.

 

  It’s peaceful, until Felix lets out a terrified scream.

 

  Minho’s eyes snap open from where they had begun to droop shut, and he’s ready to see red everywhere, expecting a shark to be eating one of the kids, maybe Hyunjin was an idiot and got swept out to sea. But there’s nothing wrong it seems.

 

  Yet Felix is at the edge of the water, covering Minho’s eyes and looking at Woojin like he’s the devil himself. 

 

  “Woojin has hickeys!” Felix yells, ignoring the way Jeongin struggles in his grip to free himself.

 

  “What?” Seungmin’s head snaps up, tossing his book onto the towel and sprinting down the beach to jump onto Woojin, tearing his tee shirt out of his hands. Woojin looks sheepish, an awkward smile on his face as he rubs the back of his neck. 

 

  Sure enough, right by Woojin’s collar bone is a collection of faded bruises, bruises that Woojin doesn’t seem too worried about hiding. 

 

  Minho watches in amusement as the younger kids squawk and bombard Woojin with questions and reprimands, but all Minho can do is glance over at the person he can only assume is the culprit. Because Chan has slowly begun to slink back up the beach to the towel, face bright red. 

 

  “Yah! Bang Chan, what the fuck is this?” Changbin yells, and there’s a moment of silence before everyone breaks out into laughter—including Minho—as Chan sinks into the sand and pulls one of the beach towels over his face to hide.

 

  “Okay kids, let’s not embarrass Channie too much.” Woojin says, hands out in a placating gesture. “Don’t think I won’t make you all put on another layer of sunblock.”

 

  That recieves groans, and Minho watches as the younger kids disperse, and Woojin joins Chan by the umbrella. He wraps his arm around Chan, who after a few moments, peeks out from the towel he covered himself with. Minho doesn’t try to listen in on whatever they’re saying, just settles back down into the sand.

 

  “C’mere,” Jisung says in a soft voice, and Minho tenses for a moment when he feels Jisung pulling him back. 

 

  He glances back, and sees that Jisung is sitting with his legs crossed, patting his thigh invitingly. 

 

  “You look a little sleepy.”

 

  Minho makes a noise of agreement, barely able to contain the yawn that begins to bubble up now that Jisung has reminded him that he is in the mood for a nap. He rests his head in Jisung’s lap, eyes shut as he feels Jisung’s fingers slip into his hair and play with the strands gently, detangling and brushing sand away. It’s nice. 

 

  He opens his eyes for a moment, and a strange warmth spreads through him when he sees Jisung’s eyebrows knit together, one eye closed as he looks out over the ocean, the sun shining down on his face. 

 

  The yells from the younger boys fade as they go further out into the surf, and every so often Minho can hear the murmur of Woojin's voice when the sound of the waves lulls. It’s quiet, even though there’s so much going on around them, but for the moment Minho is able to imagine it’d just him and Jisung. Their own little bubble, in their own universe. 

 

  “Hey, you awake?” Jisung’s voice is soft, but it’s enough to pull Minho out of the vague nap he had begun to drift into. 

 

  “What do you want?” Minho grumbles, but it’s enough for Jisung to chuckle, and shift his legs so Minho has no choice but to move his head, or get his hair all sandy. The vague annoyance that had come over him fades when Jisung puts his fingers over his lips and beckons for Minho to follow him. 

 

  Minho glances back to Woojin and Chan, and he smiles when he sees Chan leaning against Woojin, both of them watching the younger boys shriek far out in the water. Seungmin is halfway down the beach, yelling something while Hyunjin and Felix seem to be locked in an intense splashing battle. 

 

  No one notices them slip away further down the beach. 

 

  They don’t go far, but the little patch of beach Jisung brings him to is shrouded with trees that hang high over the water, and a line of patchy bushes that create a small wall between them and the rest of the guys. 

 

  Minho’s hand fits perfect in Jisung's, and he’s caught off guard when Jisung tugs him towards him and plants a kiss on his cheek affectionately. 

 

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” Jisung grins, letting his arms hang around Minho’s waist, while Minho drapes his around Jisung’s neck loosely. 

 

  “Good to know we’re on the same wavelength,” Minho snorts, some part of his head warning him that they’re too close to the others, that someone will see. But he’s beginning to wonder if that would be so bad. It’s a strange feeling, but a warm one that comes with the thought of kissing Jisung in front of other people. Holding his hand just because he feels like it, being close to him because he can. 

 

  So Minho lets himself stay close to Jisung, follows him into the water even when it reaches past Minho’s hips and he feels a familiar edge of panic at the thought of being sucked away into the dark blue. So he holds tighter, and Jisung lets him. 

 

  Jisung holds him until the water reaches their collarbones, and Minho has his eyes squeezed shut, but Jisung hasn’t let go. 

 

  “You’re safe here Min.” 

 

  “I know.” Minho says, and he means it.

 

  Even when Jisung dips his head underwater, his hand in Minho’s doesn’t falter for a moment, and there’s a moment of hesitation before Minho slides under the water with him. 

 

  Everything goes silent as he floats, curling his toes as he tentatively picks his feet up from the bottom and squeezes Jisung’s hands even tighter. Jisung squeezes right back. 

 

  There’s a strange gurgling sound in the water, and Minho’s eyebrows furrow together before he takes a moment to open his eyes and make sense of the blurry world around him. The realization that Jisung is floating above him, and he’s close enough that even through the blurriness of the water that Jisung is smiling, small bubbles coming from his mouth. 

 

  The salt makes his eyes feel weird, but Minho keeps his eyes open anyways. The thought of looking around and seeing nothing but the blue of the water scares him, so he watches Jisung, feeling his lungs grow heavy. 

 

  It takes a moment for Minho to realize Jisung is drifting closer, but he realizes what Jisung is planning as soon as Jisung leans in, a moment of stillness between them before Jisung presses his lips to Minho’s underwater. 

 

  Only it doesn’t really go very well after that. 

 

  Both of them shoot out of the water, hacking their lungs out and desperately trying to spit the disgusting taste of salt water out of their mouths. 

 

  “I’m sorry!” Jisung catches Minho as he flails in the too-deep water, and Minho gags as another wave of salt hits his sense. “I thought it would be cute!”

 

  “When I stop choking,” Queue another gag, “you’re fucking dead, Han Jisung.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  Once the sun goes down and it starts to get cold enough that no one wants to stay in the water, they all make the hike up to Woojin’s cabin up on the mountain. A walk that, while uncomfortable while they’re all salty and drying in the breeze, is enjoyable as well. The younger kids stop halfway up the mountain at Jeongin’s house to shower and grab clothes for them, while the rest of the boys continue up to Woojin's to wash up there. 

 

  Jisung makes sure Minho is bundled up before he joins the rest of the boys, and Hyunjin waves in Minho’s direction as he’s dragged away by a whiny Felix, who has been complaining for the past fifteen minutes that he lost his favorite superhero band aid in the water. 

 

  But Minho digresses.

 

  They all let Minho shower first, because for some reason everyone seems to think Minho can’t handle the cold. Which he would argue with, if his lips hadn’t been almost blue when he stepped into the bathroom. 

 

  Woojin knocks just as Minho is toweling his hair dry, and slides a pile of clothes into the room, and Minho can see from the mirror that Woojin’s eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that it almost looks like it hurts. It makes Minho smile in amusement.

 

  “Just here to deliver some clothes, Chan says these will fit you.”

 

  “Thank you, Wooj.’”

 

  The rest of the troop makes its way to the top of the mountain just as Minho and Chan are finishing setting up the lawn chairs Woojin had in the shed behind his house, and Minho watches as Jisung does a double take when he sees Minho—who automatically begins to fuss with his hair, where he knows it’s just a little too fluffy. 

 

  “Is that my sweater?” Jisung asks, and Minho looks down at the hoodie. 

 

  There’s nothing about it that would show ownership, besides the white lettering on the back that says HAN in big letters over the numbers 00. 

 

  “No it doesn’t have your—” 

 

  “—It is.” Chan says just as Minho starts to speak, and they both share a glance with each other, and then both look at Jisung Jisung. 

 

  “It’s fine either way,” Jisung says before backing off to help with the fire, and Minho feels like he just poked something he should not have even known about in the first place.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

  “Don’t mind him Minho, c’mon.” Chan pulls Minho over to the seats they set up, the two of them sitting in a peaceful silence while Jisung and Woojin make a fire a ways over, and the rest of the boys scream from inside the house as they search for s'mores ingredients. 

 

  “So,” Minho begins, “Woojin, huh?”

 

  There’s a sound that’s something akin to a cat choking on a hairball as Chan seems to inhale the soda he had been drinking, but he seems to recover quickly. 

 

  “Well, uh, yeah, Woojin is—Yeah.” Chan ends with a long sigh, something purely dreamy that matches the heart eyes Chan has begun to throw in Woojin’s direction just by uttering his name. “I didn't think I could ever love someone so much, Minho.”

 

  “You love him?” Minho glances at Chan out of the corner of his eyes, preferring to stare down at his hands in his lap. 

 

  “I think I do.”

 

  “How?”

 

  Chan looks over at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

 

  “How do you know, that you’re in love?” Minho asks slowly, unable to keep his eyes from drifting towards Jisung when he says it. 

 

  It takes Chan a while to answer, but when he does, his voice is gentle, and with an amount of understanding to it that should terrify Minho, but for some reason it doesn't.

 

  “I think, that as long as you have to continuously convince yourself that you’re _ not _ in love with him, that’s how you know. And as soon as you stop fighting what you’re afraid of, you’ll realize how beautiful it can really be.”

 

  A flash goes off as someone shrieks, and both Minho and Chan find the little bubble their conversation their conversation took place in shattered as Seungmin’s camera whirs and spits out a blank Polaroid. Jisung whines when Seungmin runs over to Minho to show him, pouting when Minho almost cries laughing at the image of Jisung’s screwed up face the moment Woojin tossed the match in and the fire came to life. 

 

  A flash goes off as Minho and Hyunjin huddle together around the fire, both of them frowning as their marshmallows turn into balls of fire in front of their eyes. Another when Chan falls asleep curled up in Woojin’s chest, hood pulled up to hide his face while Woojin's rubs small circles into his back, shooing the kids away when their cooing becomes too loud. 

 

 A flash goes off when Jisung has chocolate smeared across his face, and Minho is purposefully looking the other way while Jisung grins, eyes soft as he stares at Minho. 

 

  A flash goes off when everyone's screams drown out the crackle of the fire, and Minho watches as the Polaroid develops. A perfect image of Jisung’s surprised expression and wide eyes when Minho turned around and kissed him in front of everyone. Jisung’s jaw is slack in the image, and Minho thinks that he looks too brave, kissing Jisung like that, but he also sees himself in the picture. And he finds that he likes it.

 

  So Minho doesn’t hesitate to snuggle right up to Jisung in front of the fire, looking around to see everyone, even Hyunjin sandwiched between a sleepy Felix and Changbin, has the same expression of contentedness to them. 

 

  As the fire dies down, Minho plays with the collar of Jisung’s shirt, chin resting on Jisung’s shoulder as he stares down at the Polaroid of them kissing. The only other noise is Chan and Woojin talking as Woojin carries anyone who fell asleep into the house for the night. 

 

  “Hey Jisung,” Minho says, voice just above a whisper, but it’s enough for Jisung to look down at him, Polaroid forgotten for the moment. 

 

  “Hey Minho.”

 

  “I think I’m in love with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna try really hard to not take so long to update for the next chapter, but with finals coming up I can't really promise anything unfortunately
> 
> i promise to get it out asap though! thanks for reading <3
> 
> also i got a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/luway02) account so if y'all have any questions or anything you cna go use that
> 
> AND!!! a little art of the [underwater kiss](https://whimsycottao3.tumblr.com/post/186671015104/the-salt-makes-his-eyes-feel-weird-but-minho) right before things went a little wrong lol, this is by my good friend ver who has listened to me yell about this fic for hours on end so please give it some love <3


	15. ill at ease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof im so sorry for being gone another month, i really tried to get this chapter finished like two weeks ago but i had a heck ton of school work and then i was out of country for 2 weeks on a trip where i wasn't allowed to connect to wifi. so... big oof
> 
> but anyway!! now it's summer vacation!! which means i have as much time as i want to write, and relax and finish this fic :((
> 
> but that's still a ways away, so we can just take our time. but not another month i promise lol

   The next morning is full of slightly overcooked pancakes and Seungmin reprimanding Jisung when he drinks from the orange juice. 

 

   “I could understand if it was your own house, but how could you do that with your gross lips on the juice?” Seungmin’s eyes were wide and accusing, and it was all they could do to hold back the laughter they all felt bubbling up with how bent out of shape the boy was over such a small thing. 

 

   It confuses Minho when Chan and Felix leave early in the morning, before breakfast is even served, and when he catches sight of Chan and Woojin talking in hushed tones in the hall while exploring to find the bathroom. 

 

   He averts his eyes when they hug each other tightly, as if they’re afraid of letting go. 

 

   Woojin’s cabin is cozy, and definitely not meant for so many people inside, but Minho bumps into Soonie sunbathing in one of the windows after eating, and he takes a moment to pet her and hear her familiar chirp in his direction. He trusts Woojin to take care of her, but it’s still nice to see her sprawled out, not a care in the world. He’d like to believe that she’s happy to see him as well. 

 

   Once everyone wakes up and they pack up the blankets and pillows back into the closet, Minho watches as their group becomes smaller, each person leaving one by one, some leaving in pairs to walk down the mountain. Hyunjin, Minho, and Jisung walk together, even though Hyunjin tells Minho that he needs to go and unpack his things at his cousins house if he ever wants Jinyoung to stop blowing up his phone with messages. So they say their goodbyes, Hyunjin promising to join Minho and Yoo for dinner that night. 

 

   Minho watches Hyunjin disappear down the path, surprisingly steady in his strides as he walks back to where he’ll be staying. Yet as soon as his friend is out of sight Jisung is right beside him, sliding his hand into Minho's. 

 

   They don’t say anything for a while, they haven’t said much of anything to each other after Minho said what he did last night.  _ The L word _ . The one that still terrifies him, but maybe not so much, as long as he’s saying it to Jisung. He thinks he imagined it, but maybe Jisung held him a little tighter last night when they slept, having been (oh so randomly) placed beside each other when it came to the sleeping arrangements of the night. Because as soon as the lights went off Minho felt the blankets shift and Jisung was there, starting at a respectful distance which turned into cuddles not long after. 

 

   It’s comfortable. But Minho’s life has been going too well lately for the universe to not take this perfect moment and pull a fast one on him. 

 

   It starts out simple, just a question. 

 

   “Why did Felix and Chan leave so early today?”

 

   Minho isn’t sure if he imagines the way Jisung’s hand tenses in his own. 

 

   “Oh, well, um…” Jisung looks downcast for a moment. “Since summer is gonna be over soon, Felix and Chan have to pack up so they can go back... to Australia. They always leave a week or so early though, because flights are cheapest now.”

 

_ Summer is gonna be over soon.  _

 

   The thought rips through Minho, and he feels his throat close up as he takes a shaky breath. Summer is ending, Chan and Felix are leaving. When summer ends, Minho has to leave. Has to sit in that train for hours, go back to silent dinners. No more waves outside of his window to lull him into sleep, no more texts from Jisung to ask him to go out for breakfast. No more movie nights with Yoo after a picnic on the beach. The whole summer will be gone, like smoke in the wind. 

 

   Summers end. What else would come with it?

 

   He’s not sure what comes over him, but it’s something like a panic attack, the way his throat closes up and makes it hard to breathe. The way his heart beats like a violent drum in his chest, he can’t control it. It all bubbles up, slowly at first, before it completely overwhelms him. 

 

   Minho knows how silent he’s become, and he feels Jisung take a tentative step closer to him, feels Jisung squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture that does nothing to ease Minho’s stifled breaths.

 

    “I didn’t want to mention it to you because I knew—”

 

   “Knew what?” Minho says, voice tense as he pulls his hand out of Jisung's, wrapping them around himself, feeling a pang of bitter familiarity as he does so. “Knew that I’d be upset?”

 

   Minho refuses to look at Jisung, but he knows that he’s frowning, it’s clear enough in his voice as he speaks. 

 

   “I just want us to enjoy our time together, we don’t have to think about all that other stuff just yet. We can just be happy, can’t we?” Jisung’s voice sounds far away in Minho’s head, but even then it’s strained, like he’s choosing his words carefully.

 

   The anger comes fast for Minho then, and the first tear is like a hot iron down his cheek. 

 

   Minho whips around to glare at Jisung. Every frustration pouring out of him all at once, and he knows as soon as he starts that it’s not Jisung’s fault, that he should wipe away his tears and go back to Jisung's house, where Eunjung and Younghyun and Mae are waiting, as Jisung had announced with a smile when he invited Minho over to visit earlier. 

 

   “That’s so easy for you to say isn’t it,” Minho spits out, the words like acid in his mouth. All of his words being things he had thought in passing throughout the summer, but then he had pushed them to the back of his mind. Now it isn’t so easy, it’s like a dam had burst inside of him, and he hates how it feels good to let it out. 

 

   “ _ Be happy, we don’t have to think _ .  _ You _ don’t have to think Jisung, because you don’t have to leave. You don’t know what it’s like for me, you get to stay here with your perfect family, and your perfect life, and nothing fucking changes for you—”

 

   A sharp breath comes from Jisung’s direction, “Don’t—Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ .”

 

   Minho blinks through his tears, and finally looks at Jisung, anger dissipating almost as fast as it had come when he sees Jisung. 

 

   Jisung looks tired, lips pressed together, his hands clenched into fists by his side. His entire body seems to tremble as he points at Minho with a shaky finger, and it’s the first time that Minho thinks he’s ever seen Jisung look genuinely upset, more specifically with him. 

 

   “ _ You _ don’t get to decide that my life is perfect. Maybe it’s better than others, but it is far from perfect.” Jisung seems to think about what he says next, as if he isn’t sure whether or not he should say it, but then, “You have things that I would  _ kill  _ for, Minho.”

 

   With that said, Jisung stalks away, past Minho and down the hill, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Minho wishes he would say something, but he’s silent and ashamed as Jisung disappears. Minho catches sight of Jisung wiping away his own tears, but then he’s gone, and Minho can’t help but feel like he’s fucked up yet another part of his life with these stupid emotions. 

 

   “Fuck.” Minho mutters as he sniffles, running his fingers through his hair with shaky hands as he stands in the middle of the path; unsure of what to do now. 

 

      His fingers dig into his skin through the fabric of his sweater as he takes deep breaths. How did everything go so bad? Why did he do that? Why does he have to ruin everything he touches?

 

   He pulls his hood up when he finally begins to walk, knowing the town isn’t too far up ahead, not wanting everyone to see how puffy his eyes must be. Even though every breath trembles, and he can’t stop sniffling. Every time he thinks of that hurt look on Jisung’s face, a wave of guilt rolls over Minho, and another tear rolls down his cheek. 

 

   Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut, if he had maybe he would be at Jisung’s house right now, running around the yard with Mae, throwing a Frisbee between him and Jisung. Enjoying what was left of the summer. But instead he’s here, alone, unsure of whether he wants to go back to Yoo’s or look for Jisung and apologize for being such a self centered fucking idiot. 

 

   “Hey, is that you Minho?”

 

   A familiar voice calls out to him, and Minho looks up to see Felix standing by the side of the road, a cardboard box with his name on it in his arms. He looks pleasantly surprised, and then worried when he sees the state Minho is in. Cheeks red and blotchy, eyelashes clumped together with tears, barely holding himself together. He hadn’t even realized how far into town he had gotten. 

 

  “Hi… Hi, Felix.” Minho tries to smile, but his lips tremble and it falls flat. 

 

   “Jeez, what happened?” Felix sets down the box, and is quick to gently pull Minho off to the side of the road by Chan’s diner. Minho can see now that the door off to the side of the porch is propped open, a well lit staircase leading up to what Minho assumes is where they stay with Chan’s parents for the summer. 

 

   “I uh, got in a fight… With Jisung.” Minho hiccups, and he feels Felix wrap his arm around Minho’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I said… I said things I didn’t—didn’t mean, and…”

 

   “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” Felix’s eyebrows knit together, concerned. “How about you come upstairs and hang out with me?”

 

   Minho takes a moment before he nods, and he follows Felix slowly up the creaky stairs of the diner. 

 

   Windows along the staircase leave it well lit, and past Felix’s shoulder Minho can see another open door. It leads to a small apartment, and Minho assumes it must be only a bit smaller than the diner is on the inside. Either way it’s nice, though Minho can see it’s in the process of being packed up by Chan and Felix’s family. Three boxes set up on the ground by the door, one with Chan’s name on it. 

 

   “Sorry, it's kind of a mess.” Felix says, but Minho shakes his head. 

 

   “Don’t worry about it.”

 

   “Felix, I thought you were… Who is this?” A man who reminds Minho of Chan turns the corner, and Felix stands beside Minho. 

 

   “This is Minho, mine and Chan’s friend. I was thinking he could come over for a bit, hang out?” Felix ends it like a question, and after a moment Chan’s dad nods, and Minho is sure that he notices how much of a mess Minho looks like at the moment. 

 

   “Of course, do you boys want something to eat?”

 

   Felix glances at Minho, a silent question, but Minho shakes his head. 

 

   “No, but thank you for the offer.” His voice sounds weak in his own head, but it seems to be enough. 

 

   He follows Felix through the hall, until they stop in front of a door. 

 

   “This is mine and Chan’s room, I’ll be right back.”

 

   Felix lets the door swing open, and Minho looks in to see a room with one twin sized bed against the wall, and a mattress set up as another bed on the ground beside it. He takes a step inside, but isn’t sure what to do after that. Felix disappears down the hall, and he’s left alone. 

 

   He pulls his hood down, and holds the sleeve of the sweater by his mouth. If he tries he can still smell Jisung’s fabric softener beyond the smell of smoke and fire wood. He isn’t sure whether it makes him feel worse or better. 

 

   “Shouldn’t you be packing?” Minho asks when Felix returns a moment later with two juice pouches and a small  _ just in case,  _ as he sits back down. 

 

   “Yeah, but I’m mostly done. Besides, you’re more important than a few shirts.”

 

   The sentiment warms Minho’s heart, especially when Felix says it so gravely. 

 

  He sits in a comfortable silence as Felix talks, explaining the difference between certain games (he has to have about a thousand), but eventually they agree on an old Zelda game that Minho only knows so much about. Of course he knows the franchise, but he was never much of a gamer himself. Besides a little Stardew Valley to pass the time. He always did like games where you were able to escape your own life for another. 

 

   This game isn’t a chill farming sim however, it’s an action packed color storm of mashed buttons and Felix yelling things in English that Minho can’t manage to translate beyond,  _ ‘Come on’  _ and,  _ ‘What the?’ _ , as he focuses on  _ not dying.  _ But it takes his mind off things. 

 

   Felix doesn’t seem the type to be particularly good with deep meaningful conversations, but Minho almost prefers it to someone who will hug him and try to tell him it’s okay, and that they’re sorry. God he hates when people do that, especially when they definitely have no idea how he’s feeling. Why would you apologize for something that isn’t your fault? He doesn’t get it. Maybe Felix does understand him though, so perfectly that he knows Minho needs to calm down before talking about what happened at all. 

 

   Either way, right now, Felix is Minho’s saving grace. His oasis in the desert beating down on him, and Minho clings to that. Felix’s aura that is so free and relaxing. 

 

   It’s a while before the door opens, and in steps Chan, who looks only half surprised to see Minho sitting on the bed, watching Felix play Mario Kart and lose horribly to an NPC who seems to have an endless supply of blue shells. 

 

   “Hey Min.”

 

   Minho gives a small wave in response. He really hasn’t said much since he stepped into the room, so far that hasn’t been a problem. 

 

   “Felix, my dad says you have to pack more now. I can keep Minho company.” Chan says as he sets down the plastic bag he’s holding and takes off the sweater he’d been wearing. Minho decides to not comment on Chan’s socks, which are covered in Dragon Balls and characters from Dragon Ball Z. 

 

   “Hmph, fine.” Felix pouts, but doesn’t put up a fight. Just turns the television off and turns to Minho with a small smile. “We should hang out one more time before Channie and I leave, okay?”

 

   And he squishes Minho into a warm and comfy hug. 

 

   “Okay,” Minho says, his voice crackly and wet from crying earlier. 

 

   Once Felix is gone, Chan takes his time to tidy up the room a bit, and Minho isn’t sure whether or not he should help, until Chan starts talking while he puts things back into their proper places. 

 

   “I met Woojin when I was about twelve, even though I’ve been coming here since way before. We had just never bumped into each other before that, but as soon as I saw him, I knew he was special.”

 

   There’s a fond smile on Chan’s face as he speaks. 

 

   “The first time I had to say goodbye to him, was probably the first time I ever begged to stay on this island a day longer than we were supposed to. I always  _ hated _ this place growing up, it was so cold. But then it wasn’t just the island we visited, it was Woojin for me. I probably fell in love with him our second year knowing each other, and that terrified me.”

 

   Minho tries to imagine Chan at thirteen years old, in this room thinking about Woojin and realizing what his feelings meant.

 

   “I stopped coming, for a while.” Chan says, and Minho watches as Chan holds the plastic grocery bag in his hands for a while before looking back up at Minho and giving him a sad smile. “I… I’m not proud of it, but I didn’t come back until I was about seventeen. And for the first few weeks I wouldn’t leave the house, I thought I couldn’t face him, not after what I did. And I had heard, through my parents, that Wooj’s parents… Well, it wasn’t good. He was all alone, and I hadn’t spoken to him in years on top of that, hadn’t even said goodbye,”

 

   A bittersweet smile comes over Chan’s lips as he speaks. “It took everything in me to climb that mountain, I was so sure I would hurl on Woojin’s front steps.”

 

   “You two made up though.” Minho says as Chan sits down next to him, a lableless tub of ice cream in his lap and two spoons in hand. 

 

   “Something like that.” Chan hums, a brief flicker of sadness flitting across his features. “It took a year or two before we were back to normal, or at least as close to normal as we could be after all of that… Woojin—He hurts… He gets hurt so easily, and the world hasn’t been kind to him, even though he deserves the… He deserves the fucking universe.”

 

   Chan’s voice is thick with emotion, and he stabs his spoon into the ice cream once he hands the other to Minho. 

 

   “It hurts so fucking bad to leave him, worse now, because we finally figured things out—for the most part.” Chan sniffles. “I want to stay here full time, but I have school back home, and a whole life. It’s like two worlds, and I just don’t know how to get them to fit together. “

 

   “There’s no way to choose between them,” Minho says softly, and there’s a moment of understanding that passes between them in the moment as they sit there, eating ice cream like two girls in a dumb chick flick crying over their now ex-boyfriends. Though Minho thinks that that is only true in his case. 

 

   “Jisung doesn’t stay mad, trust me. He’ll be upset, but… but he really does love you Minho.” Chan tells him when Minho finally voices some of his thoughts and finishes telling him what happened between him and Jisung that morning, because Minho fees like Chan really gets what Minho is feeling at the moment. 

 

   “What you said just hit some of Jisung's… sore spots.”

 

   “I feel like there’s a whole part of Jisung’s life, an important part, that I keep getting glimpses of but no one explains.” Minho pouts and sniffles from past tears, hugging his knees to his chest and pressing his lips together as he watches Chan finish the last of the ice cream. 

 

   “It’s not really our story to tell Min. Ask Eunjung or Younghyun if you have to, but in the end they can only tell you their sides of the story. Jisung is the one you have to talk to about it if you really want to know, but… Just know that even him deciding to tell you is a big step. In all my time of knowing Jisung, I still don’t know the full story. No one really does around here besides his family.”

 

   “Thank you Chan, and for the ice cream too.”

 

   “No problem, I always get a tub of this before we leave.” Chan chuckles as he picks up the remnants of the ice cream. They both wander into the kitchen to clean up, Chan washing while Minho dries and sets them on the rack on the counter. “It helps with the emotions, or at least I like to tell myself that.”

 

   Minho leaves soon after that, and after some tight hugs from both Felix and Chan and their aunt when she shows up. Auntie Bang as she insists on being referred as, invited Minho to dinner, but Chan’s father shut Auntie Bang down quickly, saying both boys, Chan and Felix, had to catch up on their packing, so family dinner would be pretty boring. 

 

   Minho politely declined anyway, mind heavy with new information and questions, and guilt still.  

  
  


   Tomorrow he would get answers, he swore on it as he waved goodbye to Felix and Chan, who both squished through the window to their room to watch him walk off. It was sweet, but something tasted sour in his mouth, like he knew that the satisfaction of getting answers would be a pale sentiment compared to what he was about to learn, if it was anything at all. 

  
  


_ Jisung is the one you have to talk to about it if you really want to know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet
> 
> also i really meant to respond to comments from last chapter but.... im super tired and lazy and jet lagged so i probably won't but i'll def answer every comment on this one


	16. call your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not sorry
> 
> also the end might be fixed later but also probably not because i have a job interview today! which is fun but also im NERVOUS
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

   The weather takes a turn for the worst as Minho walks home, and he watches as the clouds roll in from way far out over the ocean and engulf the—in comparison—tiny island. And honestly, Minho feels a bit of panic bubble up in his stomach when the wind starts to whip through the trees, and the clouds swallow up the evening sun. 

 

   It doesn’t help that when he walks up the driveway, there’s no car parked outside like he’s used to. The house is devoid of lights, and when Minho finally slips out of the rain that had begun to fall, it’s eerily silent inside. 

 

   “Hello?” Minho peers around the house, eyebrows knit together when he hears nothing. Strange, because usually Yoo is home by now, dinner on the counter. 

 

   Even her room is empty and dark when he cracks the door open, the smell of laundry and Yoo’s candles much stronger inside, but it’s now a familiar smell to Minho, and it eases some of his nerves. 

 

   Then his phone vibrates in his pocket. 

 

    _“Minho, I’m so sorry, the storm blew out the power in the building and my phone was dead. Are you home? Are you okay?”_

 

Yoo’s voice crackles over the phone, and Minho can hear the worry, but he’s so relieved to hear her. 

 

   “I’m home, yeah. What happened? Where are you?”

 

    _“I’m stuck on the mainland, they shut down the ferries and sent everyone back. I’m sorry sweetheart, but I’m not gonna be able to make it home. I swear that I’m going to be on that first ferry back though.”_

 

   “You—You’re not gonna be home tonight?” Minho says, both hands holding his phone close as he looks around the house. By now he’s turned on the lamps in the living room, but it’s still so much emptier without Yoo to fill it up with her personality and loud cackles of laughter. 

 

    _“Not tonight, no.”_ Yoo sounds guilty, and it shocks Minho. 

 

   He’s used to empty houses, sleeping alone and making dinner for himself isn’t a new occurrence. He thinks what had freaked him out so much was that not once since he arrived had he ever been alone in the house unless Yoo was at work, but even then he knew she would be home on time, and that he could look forward to a dinner where it isn’t just him at the table pushing his food around the plate until he finally gives up on entertaining the thought that he won’t be alone. 

 

   Minho knows that Yoo has gone out of her way to make sure nothing like that would happen while he was staying with her, he knows. But now this is out of their control. 

 

   He startles when a bright flash illuminates the house from the outside, and in a moment the lights he had just turned on go out all at once. Sending him into darkness again as a huge boom rumbles overhead. 

 

   _“Minho? What happened?”_

 

   “I—Nothing, nothing happened. I mean, the power went out but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

   He’s not fine. He’s dark, and he’s cold, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

 

    _“Oh sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. I have candles in my room, and there’s matches in the front kitchen drawer.”_

 

Yoo tells Minho where everything is, and in less than fifteen minutes Minho has a small bubble of flickering light surrounding him. It doesn’t help the strange sense of dread looming over him, even though he knows he should push it as far into the back of his mind as he can manage. 

 

    _“Are you sure you’re going to be alright? I can call Soojin or Eungjung if you need, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you stayed the night—”_

 

   “No, no I’ll be fine.” At least Minho hopes he will be. 

 

   There’s a vague yet tense silence as Yoo seems to think for a moment, as if she wants to insist on Minho going to Seungmin or Jisung’s house, but Minho really doesn’t want to be a bother. He could only imagine what Seungmin would be like if Minho had to spend the night at his house because he was ‘scared of being alone during a storm’, and as much as he would like to call Jisung, he isn’t sure if Jisung wants to see him right now. 

 

  _“Okay honey, I’m gonna hang up now so I can find a hotel, but you can call me anytime you need okay? Even if it’s in two minutes, okay?”_ It warms Minho’s heart when he realizes Yoo is as nervous about the whole situation as he is, though maybe not for the same reasons. 

 

   “Okay… Love you.”

 

    _“Love you too.”_

 

   And the call ends. 

 

   It takes about five minutes for Minho to get sick of sitting in the dark and light even more candles, wincing every time the windows flash, and the sky rumbles overhead. 

 

   If he’s learned one thing in all his time on the island, it’s that he hates ocean storms with a burning passion. The living room window looks out over the water, and in the darkness it just looks like a wall of black, even when a bolt of lightning strikes far off close to the horizon. The seemingly empty space fills him with a sense of unease, and he pulls the curtains shut when he feels goosebumps run up his arms. 

 

   For the time being, Minho tries to sleep. Flitting between his own room and the couch until his own mattress—minus the sheet—is bare, and he has his own little cocoon set up in front of the fireplace. Though the flicker of flame doesn’t come from the hearth, but rather the multitude of candles Minho lit to brighten up the room a bit. 

 

   It still doesn’t do anything to get rid of the creeping feeling on the back of Minho’s neck, and for an hour he sits all bundled up, so tempted to call Yoo and talk to her instead of sit in silence, but he figures it would only make her worry more. Not to mention that Hyunjin has been giving him nothing but radio silence since the last time they actually talked face to face that morning. So instead he sits, and thinks, and glances around the room where the shadows dance along the walls and make strange shapes that do more to freak Minho out than distract him from the nerves he already has. 

 

   So he opens up his messages app and begins to type. 

 

   

 

 

     > 00:37

Hey. I’m sorry. 

Can we talk about what happened? 

Or not

 

 

     SUNGIE 00:45

its fine i shouldn’t have yelled at you

are you okay?

 

 

   They talk for a while as the storm continues to rage, and Minho feels some of his anxiety from earlier ebb now that Jisung doesn't seem so upset with him. Though what can you really tell when you’re just reading words off a screen? He hopes that Jisung is just looking at his screen with a big of a double chin as he lounges in bed, and not with an angry glare and he devises a plan to get back at Minho. 

 

   Yeah, Minho sure does hope. 

 

   It’s strange though, because as soon as Minho just barely mentions how Yoo wasn’t able to make it home and how his power is out—a topic he tried to skirt around at first, Jisung’s texts become single word responses, until they stop coming at all. 

 

    _Strange_. Minho thinks, taking the time to check the connection and make sure his data is still working. When he sees that nothing is wrong with his phone, he goes through about twenty different scenarios in his head from Jisung either just randomly deciding to stop talking to him to him getting crushed by a tree that fell on his house because of the storm. By the time that thought rolls around though, Minho catches sight of the time, and the less tired part of his brain not ruled by his anxieties figures that Jisung just fell asleep while typing. Because that’s a normal thing for people to do when they’re texting at almost one thirty in the morning. 

 

   Minho is sure that he’ll wake up to a few texts from Jisung apologizing for falling asleep in the morning, as he’s woken up to the same situation, just with him being the guilty one. With that in mind, Minho shuts his own phone off and tries to settle down for the night. Though he’s fully prepared to only receive a few broken hours of sleep. 

 

   Of course, that’s when the knocking starts, and Minho nearly dies of fright. Of fucking course. 

 

   Another clap of thunder rolls, this time right above the house, and Minho unintentionally curls in on himself when he feels the sound as a dark thrum in his chest that sends chills up his spine. 

 

   The knocking continues after a few seconds, and Minho picks up his phone, turning on his flashlight for the first time that night. He hadn’t before to conserve battery, but something about someone banging on his door at almost two in the morning seems worthy of a proper fucking flashlight. 

 

   “Hello?”

 

   Minho creeps closer to the sliding doors that lead to the tiny mudroom that acts as the entryway to the house. It’s no bigger than a closet, but it’s just enough to obscure the actual door into the house from view, leaving Minho’s visitor a mystery. Until a familiar buzzing in his hand makes him jump. 

 

 

     SUNGIE 02:03

LET ME IN

MINHOOOOOOO

M  
I  
N  
H  
O  
BITCH

LET ME IN

 

 

   As soon as Minho sees the messages, he swears and rushes to open the front door, stepping back when it flies open with the wind and he sees a horribly soaked and shivering Jisung standing on the porch, the dark backdrop of the storm behind him as branches whip through the air, and an inch of water floods downhill away from the house thankfully. 

 

   It takes Jisung less than a second to fling himself inside, and help Minho with closing the door against the hurricane outside. The rain that clings to Jisung’s skin makes his hands slip against the surface of the door and Minho’s own hands, but they eventually get it closed, though not without a loud _slam_ and the sound of the window next to it rattling. 

 

   “Fuck storms.” Jisung mutters, pushing his hair off his forehead and letting out a huge breath. 

 

   “You fucking idiot, you could have died out there” Minho says, in disbelief when he finally gets a proper look at how wet Jisung really is. In the short amount of time they’ve spent in the room, there’s already a dark patch at Jisung’s feet where the rain drips down his body from, well, everywhere. 

 

   “Surprise?” Jisung shrugs, and it takes everything in Minho to not throttle his idiot of a boyfriend right there in the mudroom. 

 

   He doesn’t think Yoo would appreciate coming home to a dead body though, so instead he flicks Jisung on the forehead and tells him to wait as he runs to the bathroom to grab towels and then his room to find clothes that aren’t sopping wet. Scolding Jisung the whole time. 

 

   All in all, it takes about half an hour to get Jisung dry enough where Minho deems him merely damp enough to make the walk across the house to the bathroom, and proceeds to shut him in the dark (plus one of the weaker candles) until he changes into the _dry_ clothes Minho gingerly set out for him. 

 

   “You’re so fucking stupid” Minho sighs (somewhat fondly) as he rubs Jisung’s head with one of the softer towels Yoo owns, leaving jisung’s head a, slightly damp, puff ball. 

 

   “You said you were nervous about being alone in the storm!”

 

   “So you walked, _through the storm_ , to my house at _two in the morning_?” Minho asks, hearing the noise of complaint Jisung makes when Minho is slightly too rough with the towel. 

 

   “In retrospect maybe it wasn’t the _best_ idea.” Jisung finally admits, and Minho finally gives up on getting Jisung’s hair any more dry than he’s already managed. 

 

   “You think?”

 

   While Minho is very much pissed with Jisung for being so stupid, he will admit that a lot of the anxiety that had been plaguing him since he arrived him has almost disappeared now that he’s not alone. More specifically, not alone _with_ Jisung. 

 

   “Shut up and hold me, I’m still fucking freezing.” Jisung mutters, dragging Minho off the couch where he had been sitting behind Jisung until they’re next to each other. 

 

   Minho begrudgingly wraps his arms around Jisung, but only when he feels how cold Jisung’s skin is. He refuses to let Jisung get sick because of his adorable yet completely idiotic gesture. He even gets up to pile more blankets onto the makeshift bed, as he had only planned for one person originally, and he hadn’t been in danger of catching hypothermia. 

 

   He doesn’t stop until almost every pillow and blanket in the house is set up nicely, and Jisung is wrapped up in most of them. 

 

   Jisung’s temperature is still colder than Minho’s when he fits himself next to him, but it’s not as bad as it was when Jisnug first arrived, so Minho allows himself to take a breather, and just take a moment to get comfortable. 

 

   “You’re so dumb.” Minho says with a breathy laugh, but it’s dry, and he can feel Jisung wilt at the worry in his tone. 

 

   After a moment, Jisung finally mumbles into Minho’s shoulder, “I know… Sorry.”

 

   “I don’t even want to say I’m glad you’re here.”

 

   “That’s okay, I’m glad I’m here anyway.”

 

   There’s a short period of silence, and Minho doesn’t take his chance to break it, because something about the way Jisung is breathing is so familiar. Minho knows that Jisung has something else to say, and he’s taking his time to gather the courage and the words. So they sit quietly as rain hits the roof in its own rhythm, and Minho adjusts himself so he’s holding Jisung tighter, because he can feel the faint tremble in Jisung’s hand when he searches for Minho’s own and holds on like it’s a lifeline. 

 

   “You love me, don’t you?” Jisung finally asks, and it’s not what Minho was expecting in words, but the weakness is there, so he doesn’t hesitate to look at Jisung and make sure that Jisung knows he means it when he says, 

 

   “Yeah, I love you, Jisung.”

 

   A deep breath, and Jisung starts to talk. 

 

   “Eunjung isn’t my mom, I mean, she _is_ , she always will be, she’s just—” Jisung squeezes Minho’s hand, and Minho squeezes back instinctively. 

 

   “Just talk, I’ll listen” Minho says softly, and falls silent as Jisung takes another deep breath. 

 

   “They were married, my mom and my dad. Younghyun was probably four, and they were trying to have another kid, you know. The perfect family and all that bullshit,” Jisung says, and Minho can hear the tears in his voice. “Something happened, some kind of fight between them, a real bad one. They’ve told me everything except what it was about.”

 

   Another deep breath, and Minho holds Jisung tighter when he sees Jisung rubbing his eyes furiously.

 

   “He went to the city I guess, as far as he could get from mom. He says the whole thing was—He, He tries so hard not to use the word _mistake_.” Jisung’s voice turns bitter fast, and there’s a sudden acrid tang on Minho’s tongue.  

 

   “My dad loves me, but I just know he regrets leaving. Not being with my mom, or Younghyun. I believe him when he says I was an accident, and it took me forever but I think… I think I do believe him now when he called me his _happy_ accident. It took so much fucking time though Minho.”

 

   Jisung explains how his dad went back to Eunjung and Younghyun barely half a year after he left, and how The Fight was bad enough that it still took more time for Eunjung and Youngjin to be okay. Younghyun doesn’t talk about it, but he spent a lot of time with Jiyeon, Aunt Yoo, because of how long it took for their parents to get better again. 

 

   “They didn’t know about me until I was almost three, my birth mom never even told him she was pregnant. I don’t know if she ever was going to. I don’t remember much of anything about her, only what I’ve been told. She was good for a while, whoever our neighbors were never saw anything weird. Until… I don’t know. She got hooked on something. My parents didn’t want to tell me everything yet, just the important stuff, you know? ‘Cause I guess telling your kid about his fucked up family is a lot.” 

 

   Jisung lets out a dry laugh, but at the same time it’s weighed down by the tears that are streaming down his face. His eyes are puffy, and maybe there’s some snot, but Minho doesn’t comment on it. The shitty quality of the candle light probably gives Jisung some cover so Minho doesn’t see just how much he’s really crying, but it’s enough to tear at Minho’s heart either way.

 

   “You wanna take a breather?” He asks softly as he brushes his sleeve over Jisung’s cheeks as gentle as he can manage; his own eyes are watery at the sight, but he blinks away his own tears.

 

   Jisung shakes his head, but he still takes a moment to calm himself some before starting again. 

 

   “So yeah, my birth mom was an addict, lost custody of me ‘cause she couldn’t take care of a toddler with the way she was, and so they called my only living relative. My dad. Only Younghyun was playing with his phone at the moment, so instead of Kang Youngjin they got Kang Younghyun, and they were very confused apparently, until my dad eventually noticed and grabbed the phone and found out, ‘whoopty doo, you have that second kid just like you wanted, three years too late and not with your wife, but a random woman you slept with when your marriage was in shambles’.”

 

   There’s some humor in Jisung’s words, but it’s dripping with sarcasm, and neither of them are really laughing. 

 

   “I guess I was lucky for my situation. My mom already knew she couldn’t have kids after Younghyun because of her health, and they wanted to adopt but it was too expensive. I’m not saying that they just _agreed_ on taking me. I know they must have fought about it, but they wouldn’t tell me about that either. sometimes I want to know, most of the time—I almost wish I didn’t know any of it. I’d rather be a dumb island kid who thought his family was as perfect as it seems, yanno? Who didn’t know that he was a mistake, had more than one picture of me before the age of three. I want the same last name as my fucking brother, my _parents_.”

 

   Suddenly Minho gets it, why Jisung had snapped at him that morning, or, yesterday morning technically. 

 

_You get to stay here with your perfect family, and your perfect life._

 

 _You have things I would_ kill _for._

 

   The words echo in Minho’s head, both his and Jisung’s, anger and sadness etched into the memory, and a newfound guilt that weighs down on Minho’s heart because from the outside Minho wishes he had what Jisung did. A loving mother, father, a brother. But Jisung probably looked at every family and wished, wished for a mother who he never had to doubt when it came to whether she was _his_. There’s no question in Minho’s mind as to whether Eunjung and Youngjin love Jisung, but he can very well imagine Jisung, finally knowing the answers he most likely never expected, young and heartbroken and left to worry and wonder if the family he had grown up in was really his. 

 

   “They picked me up a few days later, and that was it. Mama says it was love at first sight but… I don’t know, I can’t just believe—.”

 

   “I believe her.” Minho interrupts for the first time since Jisung started, shoving the blankets off of himself almost angrily as he wraps his arms around Jisung. A tight hug that honestly might be squishing Jisung at the moment, but Minho doesn’t budge. “Please don’t doubt how much we love you Jisung. I know I’m not your parents, but it fucking hurts to hear you wonder whether you’re loved or not, I couldn’t imagine being Eunjung and hearing the same thing—”

 

   A choked sob comes from Jisung, muffled by Minho’s sweater, where Jisung buried his face when Minho grappled him into a hug. 

 

   “I know—I know it’s bad but… You don’t get it Minho, I’ve never told anyone how I—How I feel.”

 

   “I wouldn’t have either,” Minho cracks a bittersweet smile, pulling away just enough to press a comforting kiss to Jisung’s cheek. “I could never pretend to _get it_ Jisung, but I know what it’s like to convince yourself that it’s your fault, that you’re just dead weight.”

 

   At some point while Jisung was talking, the worst of the storm must have passed, the thunder faint and the lightning nothing more than a faint flicker in the distance among the candles, though the rain still drips down the windows and fills the house with a gentle sound. 

 

   “Hey,” Minho holds Jisung’s face in his hands, knowing it’s fucking cheesy when he tries to throw all of his love into his gaze as he looks Jisung in the eyes. “I love _you._ Do you hear that Han Jisung?”

 

   “How do you… You know my name?” Jisung looks shocked as his eyes widen, one hand over Minho’s as the other dries more tears.

 

   Minho rolls his eyes, his smile fond as he lets out a teasing laugh. “Of course, it was _your_ hoodie wasn’t it? How could I not know my own boyfriends surname? You’re the dumbass who walked through a fucking hurricane to keep me company at ass in the morning, and to remind me how much your family loves you, and how for some reason, I’m head over heels for you too. You got that mister?”

 

   He almost succeeds in being intimidating. At least he would if he didn’t immediately wrestle Jisung down and demand him to allow Minho to hold him for the rest of the night. 

 

   “No more talking tonight, okay?” Minho says softly once he manages to get the blankets over both of them, Jisung’s head resting on his chest as he smushes the rest of Jisung into his body. As long as he can keep his arms around the boy and keep him safe for now, he doesn’t care how he does it, and Jisung doesn’t say anything against it either. 

 

   “Okay.” Jisung’s voice cracks, but it’s so soft Minho barely even hears him talk in the first place. 

 

   “You’re just gonna sleep, and I’m gonna make us banana pancakes in the morning. And if you get sick from being outside, I’m actually going to kill you, okay?”

 

   An exhausted muffled laugh sounds, but Minho can feel and hear Jisung smile into his chest as he talks. “Okay… Thank you for listening Minho. Love you.”

 

   Jisung falls asleep before Minho can respond, candlelight dancing across his cheekbones and painting the area around them in a little bubble of warmth and light. Minho’s heart feels heavy, but he thinks that if someone asked, he would tell them that he was happy. He wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

 

   “Love you too, Ji.” Minho whispers before he closes his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol y'all thought minho was the sad boy of this universe, WRONG. it was jisung all along 
> 
> oh btw i have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/luway02) thing now idk
> 
> soooo bye!! see you soon <3
> 
> also a little art of the [kiss](https://whimsycottao3.tumblr.com/post/186671015104/the-salt-makes-his-eyes-feel-weird-but-minho) from chapter 14, this is by my good friend ver who has listened to me yell about this fic for hours on end so please give it some love <3

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos appreciated! 
> 
> Listen to the playlist on [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTbofCaomk0ay-i7uMmCY01m_cILIv4xU&disable_polymer=true) or [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/qmq2t85fofdvysfnih44ve4zi/playlist/4vVgeYyS4KMshNoZDVRnsx?si=U9MlzOSMQdC8vjvyOWarMQ) (includes all songs mentioned and featured throughout the fic)
> 
> [movie poster](https://97swoojin.tumblr.com/post/181885620770/movie-postercover-for-summers-end-made-by) made by the-stray-kidz on tumblr
> 
> a little art of the [kiss](https://whimsycottao3.tumblr.com/post/186671015104/the-salt-makes-his-eyes-feel-weird-but-minho) from chapter 14, this is by my good friend ver who has listened to me yell about this fic for hours on end so please give it some love <3


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